A Night for Opera and Everything Else
by DarthRuinous
Summary: Supreme Chancellor Palpatine requests Anakin's presence at the Galaxies Opera House to lay his greatest trap yet, but something occurs that was not foreseen, at least not by the Dark Lord of the Sith. AU. Violence warning.
1. Of Pesky Senators

Chapter One

Galaxies Opera House

Uscru District, Coruscant

Year 19 BBY

The opulent and inspiring Galaxies Opera House in the upper level of the Uscru District, Coruscant, was a breath of fresh air for the man who had the selection of the best the city-planet had to offer. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, of Naboo, was one of the entertainment house's most cherished patrons; indeed, he had brought the opera house into the limelight of high-brow Coruscant, shunning the more classical Coruscant Opera. In fact, it was thanks to the Supreme Chancellor that the owner, Romeo Treblanc, was not now floundering in hopeless gambling debts. In return, Palpatine received a highly private (and audibly secured) viewing box for his personal use at any time.

As he mounted the under-lit and glowing blue steps toward his private box, he scoffed at the quaint Jedi ideal of non-attachment. He loved this place and attended the performances when he could abscond from his more serious pursuits. He was a cultured man, and he scorned the sentient beings who could not appreciate the finer arts. Those who attended clubs like the Outlander, those who bet on the fights and the casinos… mere barbarians out for cheap thrills. He could not expect the base creatures to truly understand. Such awareness was beyond most.

Ah, but the ballet! The symphony! The multi-act plays! Such depth and subtleties, such intrigue and drama, such order within the undercurrents! He loved the order most. The more modern composers and directors who dared show their faces in this opera house soon learned differently. He shuddered with the memories. He had exerted his not inconsiderable influence to drum them out of the worthy art circles, and he felt little pity for their uncertain futures. They had unknowingly infringed upon his order, his sense of purpose and meaning, and a place where he could escape the sometimes chaotic flow of his life.

Not a few modernists had disappeared entirely, but he shook the darker thoughts away, returning to his appreciation. The classics were mesmerizing – the control of each note harmonizing and building with the next, the measured manipulation of each step in the dance, the fathomless layers in each actor's face. They all called to him, to a place deep within that he dared not fully acknowledge, even here. Yet here he could relax his grip in small amounts, allowing himself to take pleasure in watching.

Yes, Palpatine mused as he turned down the crowded upper hall of the opera house, he was content to remain on the sidelines in this place, to watch and observe and occasionally learn. He had always learned best by watching, by listening. It served him well in the Senate, gaining him many friends, much gossip, and a little truth. They thought of him as a quiet friend, always willing to listen but never offering judgment. He was an unassuming politician, unspoiled by the intrigues of the Senate. Well. Such foolish assumptions on their parts suited his purposes well enough. He never forgot the feeling that politics was simply acting offered up to the public as the truth. _The more brazen the lie, the more sentient beings fall for it. _

Perhaps that was why he so enjoyed watching the actors as they performed, scouring their faces through his opera glasses, searching for any miniscule slip of muscle, any sign of broken character. They were beginners, most of them, to his practiced eye. Only a few could truly become their characters; only a few could suspend his disbelief for a time. Those he applauded with extra fervor, recognizing kindred spirits and delighting in the shifting pretenses. His companions wondered that naïve and cheerful Palpatine had such skill in recognizing the good actors, but he laughed inside and thought, _one would have to be stupid to not recognize a reflection._

He loved the theater and the masks of flesh that were expected in this place. If politics had not been his path… if destiny had not determined that he would become so much more, he might have enjoyed an acting career. He would have been good at it too. This was extravagant thinking, he suddenly realized, thinking that had no place in his current plans. Art could be a weakness, rousing useless sentiments. What use was it to wonder over nonexistent futures? "What if" questions were a waste of time when he needed to devote his energy to what _would be_.

That train of thought disappeared into the black hole of his mind when Sly Moore gently touched his shoulder. He shrugged her hand away, offering a sharp glare, and followed her pale look down the great hall with his own gaze until he spotted Senator Bail Organa moving in their direction. Palpatine gritted his teeth with soft and hidden frustration.

The exasperatingly softhearted man had no concept of personal time. What would it be now? Appeals to lay down his emergency executive powers to the strains of Squid Lake? He sincerely doubted Organa only wanted to borrow a pair of opera glasses or something equally innocuous. The two rarely communicated outside of the Senate Dome anymore, even if they had once shared a professional friendship early in Palpatine's chancellorship.

One other sensed his suppressed displeasure. Beside him, the thin and sallow Sate Pestage shifted, leaning his sharp nose close and hissing, "Do you want me to get rid of him, Your Excellency?" His eagerness to spurn the Alderaan Senator was palatable, and Palpatine smiled slightly. A better bureaucrat and covert operative could not be found, with the exception of Kinman Doriana. Pestage carried out his orders with efficiency, and his offer to remove Organa from the game was tempting. But no, it was too soon after the death of Valorum to risk an investigation. Besides, the last attempt had been unsuccessful at best. The only good thing to come of that was the Senate's eagerness to pass the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act. He became aware that Pestage was still breathing in his face.

"No," he said, annoyed, jerking his head back and cutting off his advisor's anticipation as the Alderaan senator spotted them and quickened his pace across the hall. With him was the Lorrdian senator Nee Alavar, covered in her usual bulky dress robes. "Organa is no threat to us yet, and may in fact be of some more use in the coming days. He suspects me of warmongering, but he has not accused me personally, and he is a most popular senator. No. I think we will step carefully around this fellow. For the present time." Palpatine watched Pestage shrink under his stern gaze. "Still, lead them away if they should seek to follow me into my box. I want a nonpolitical evening. This night is far too important."

Pestage grimaced, swallowing heavily. He well knew of his master's important business. "Yes, Excellency. On that note, the Jedi Skywalker received your request. He will arrive later this evening."

"Silence," Palpatine breathed, pleased. Organa and Alavar had arrived, bowing briefly as a show of respect to his office. "Welcome, my good senators!" he exclaimed, the warmth rushing into his previously cold voice. The senators murmured their thanks and inclined their heads to the other members of his party, especially the attendant Senator Sweitt Concorkill. Palpatine waited, then prodded himself to spread his hands wide and smile broadly. "You have chosen an excellent evening to attend the opera. Squid Lake is simply divine!" Palpatine hoped to cut off their political agenda before it even started. If inane chatter were required, so be it.

Organa straightened in surprise at the friendly reception. His swarthy face did not yet smile. "I heard the Mon Calamari Ballet outdid itself with this program, Supreme Chancellor, and I am encouraged by your warm endorsement." He hesitated, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. "I was wondering if we might have your ear for a minute before the show."

Pestage stepped forward, noting Organa's dark look at him and pointedly ignoring it. His lips writhed back in the semblance of a smile. A patronizing sneer more like, Palpatine thought. "The Fish People currently hold His Excellency's attention, Senator. This ballet was meant as a diversion from the overwhelming pressure of his official duties. Surely we may set aside political differences for the evening?"

"Fish People?" Alavar questioned in a soft voice, confused. "What do you mean?"

Palpatine glanced away, down the expansive hall to school his expression of amusement. The petty anger Pestage held for the non-human races sometimes surprised even him. He had never understood from where this derision came. Pestage made few evolutionary arguments, no aesthetic pleas. But the bias was always there, an ugly and sometimes – no, often – useful thing. Not useful tonight, however. He glanced sharply at Pestage, the other man missing the look.

"A derogatory term from deal-slang, Nee. I hate to hear it used for such a noble people." Organa was saying, and his face grew even darker as he stared at Palpatine's aide.

"Noble? Entertaining, yes," Pestage chuckled. "But I have seen little of this nobility, Senator, in a people mostly known for the smells of salt and dead fish." Pestage's dislike for non-humans was well known to Organa. Organa, on the other hand, was a champion of non-human rights. Sweitt Concorkill's large pointed head shifted between the two men, eyes bulging at the barely civil discourse; the Vurk senator acutely felt the animosity and disliked it, sweeping his hands from side to side helplessly.

As much as he enjoyed feeding off the anger of his companions, Palpatine decided to diffuse the situation at last. He stepped forward, clapping his hands to both bristling humans and lowering his voice in a mild rebuke to his servant. "Sate, personal opinions may be voiced at more opportune times, and nobility may come in different forms." Then he raised his voice. "I for one, find the Mon Calamari to be a fascinating culture, rich with the finest arts that may be found." He smiled broadly and sensed Organa loosening, beginning to smile as well with his victory over his foe.

"Supreme Chancellor, you speak graciously," Alavar began to say, "but our questions have some urgency-"

"And I could not do them justice at this hour, my lady," Palpatine broke in, his smooth tone never wavering. He offered a self-deprecating smile, a half smirk that so easily reached his eyes. "For all my love of the opera, I may yet sleep before the show is over. I have not been feeling entirely well." A simple lie, one easily backed up by crinkling his brow and drawing his face down.

Their concern and condolences were both real and laughable, but he refrained, instead thanking them and moving away. Pestage stood guard at the door as he entered his private box and sank into the soft right chair. He languidly waved to the news reporters and nodded respectfully to the senators seated across from him. When Sly Moore joined him, she sensed his desire to brood and left him alone. Wise girl…

**And there is the first of several chapters. The night at the Opera has begun, and who knows what lies in store for anyone? Will Anakin arrive in time to go behind the scenes and see the "First Look at Squid Lake"? Seriously though, some changes are coming. All reviews will be lovingly appreciated. **


	2. A Woman Scorned

"_Your overconfidence is your weakness." – Luke (RoTJ)_

Chapter Two

Palpatine had been pleasantly surprised when he realized that this particular opera would coincide so well with Anakin's current mental condition. The mood would be perfectly set. He had thrown two meetings with EMCOR Senators out the proverbial transparisteel window for this chance, and he knew, in the black emptiness that was his heart, that it would be a life-changing experience. A galaxy-sweeping effect that would be felt in every home and planet. He laughed aloud, secure in the secrecy of his box.

Beside him, Sly Moore stiffened at the sound. "Excellency?" she inquired, her silky voice breaking into his thoughts. He heard much in that word. Attention, concern, curiosity… Sly Moore was a faithful servant, a cold and hardened veteran of his dark ranks. From the moment he had rescued her from the Sith tomb in the Cron Drifts to the moment he had revealed her future with the dark side, the alien had attached herself to him with an intensity that was flattering. Her passion for him bordered on fanatical love, it seemed. Unrequited love at that. He held no such passion for her, but she certainly was useful in his political machinations. She was Umbaran, a natural shadowy power in politics and very good at influencing the unwary.

She was not Sith Lord material, not close. However, it was undeniable that her skill with the Force was considerable. He had never shown her his true power, but he had trained her in the ways of a force adept, sharing combat and subterfuge skills that would serve him well. Many times, she begged him for more. Sometimes the begging reached the end of his long-lasting nerves, and she would be incapacitated for a day or two, but the bruises healed and the blood dried, and always she came back for more. It was her unquestioning dedication to his cause and her ability to hold the darkest of secrets that built the trust between them.

Yet lately, she had appeared agitated. Like tonight. They were the only ones who had entered the box so far, and she sat next to him and peered at him closely. Her pale eyes would unnerve a lesser man. Palpatine only smiled. Sly knew better than to attempt any mind influencing on him. He thought of the young girl she had been, once attempting to mind-force him to let her go. The remnants of his Force lightning had crackled through her bones for days at that failed invasion.

If he had any experience in the matter, he could say she was like a daughter to him. An entirely expendable daughter that he could never love. _Wrong comparison, perhaps? _He mused. Instead, she was a favorite weapon in his arsenal. Yes, that was it.

"My lord?" she asked again, louder this time. "Is something amiss?"

"Amiss?" he was amused at her concern now. "Oh no…nothing amiss."

She finally looked away, lowering her voice, barely moving her mouth. "You seem very distracted."

He barked out a sharp laugh, genuinely mocking her. "Distracted? By nothing but my future, my dear Sly." His words of affection meant nothing to him. He cared not at all what they meant to her, and perhaps he just could not understand. Then again, why would he wish to? "Tonight is the night of which I have oft spoken, after all."

She shifted in her seat, closer to him. "Tonight? You speak of the One, the new apprentice?" At his cheerful nod, she scowled. "My lord, is this wise? He is a Jedi-"

"In name only," Palpatine grinned wickedly.

She ignored the faint bite in his words. At her peril, he thought. "He is a Jedi. He is – was – on the side of the Jedi. He can't be trusted, I've warned you. He is too unstable, too reckless. You need someone who is fast and silent, unseen and subtle. He is a danger to you –" She finally stopped herself when she saw that Palpatine had raised his eyebrows.

"A danger to me? How kind of you to worry…" he trailed off. Falsely encouraged, she moved to speak again, when his hand came down on her own like a vice. He squeezed, not to break her bones, but to cause immense pain. She hissed between her teeth, pale eyes half closing. "Of the ones in this box, I am not the one in danger, Sly."

"No, my lord," she whispered. Was she agreeing, or was it a plea? He kept his hand on hers. To any potential onlookers, he was encouraging his aide, comforting her in a moment of insecurity. Either that, or the filthy tabloids would be having a field day with this one…He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

"What would you have me do, Sly? Abandon thoughts of him and train you as my apprentice instead?" He said it, entirely joking, and realized the wonderfully cruel effect of his words immediately. Sly Moore tried to jerk her hand away, pale eyes flashing with defiant inner fire. The dark emptiness that characterized the faces of most Umbarans was gone.

"I could do it!" She hissed, and now he saw the plain jealousy in her eyes alongside the pain. "I have the Force. You've started to train me, if only you finished the job, I could be your… your right hand!"

Palpatine looked away and laughed. He saw a familiar Holonet reporter in the next box over staring at them, obviously desperately wishing that he could hear the conversation. Palpatine bared his teeth in a wide smile. This would make tabloid headlines like no other tale if the conversation could be heard. He released Sly's hand and patted it gently. She cringed. "No, my dear girl. I've hardly shown you the edge of the Dark Side. You will never be my apprentice. You are a powerful tool in my hand. Until recently, you were content with that, so do not let jealousy cloud your judgment. The boy is far more powerful than you are, and he is the key to my plans. Not you."

Anger joined the pain and jealousy. "All you think of is him these days! You have forgotten your friends. Me, Sate –"

"Sate understands his destiny. You would be wise to remember yours!" For the first time in their conversation, Palpatine let his frustration with her show in his eyes. Sly Moore caught sight of the yellow tint and bowed her head, the anger quickly dissolving to a respectful fear. _As it should be. Friends? I've been too soft with the girl. I've indulged her pointless fantasies, let her think she's close to me. This behavior is unacceptable. _

Sly trembled under his gaze, finally offering a meek and much less emotional placation, "Forgive me, lord. I seek only to serve you to the fullest of my abilities." Her face slid back into a mask.

Palpatine stared at her, searching that face without mercy. He could not search as deeply with the Force as he would have liked. Using the Dark Side here in public was inviting disaster. Who knew what other Jedi might be attending? "You are not forgiven yet, Sly. We will talk about this later, and you will understand," he rumbled.

Sly flinched at the unspoken promise of agony, but she still leaned close. "Yes, my lord. I was out of line. It is not my place to question you. I… I don't …"

"Hush, my dear," Palpatine chuckled suddenly, leaning back in his seat, his voice and eyes returning to the dignified cheerfulness of the Supreme Chancellor. "It's starting." Sate Pestage, Mas Amedda, and the Vurk senator had entered the box behind them and taken their seats.

He imagined her stewing beside him, as she always did when corrected, and it took him some time to stop smiling. _She'll get over it._

…**And someone's nose is out of joint. Umbarans are a fascinating species of Star Wars. There was actually a pretty nifty Umbaran Sith Lord, Darth Ruin, partial inspiration for my own pen name. Apologies for any grammatical mistakes as I am not working with a beta. **


	3. Unassuming

Hey folks, I figured I'd reply to the reviews from the last chapter that I can't private message instead.

Jack: Thank you for the review! You bring up some great observations. Yes, Palpatine is still human, which can in fact make him more evil than if he were just a boogyman. After all, even Hitler loved his dog Blondi. I guess I'm one of those who think that no human can be pure evil, although they can get pretty close. As far as tolerating, at this point, these are Palpatine's most useful aides. Since he invested so much training in them, he's probably a little more longsuffering. But, we'll just have to wait and see about that last question. :)

Vialco: Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad you liked Sly Moore's part. Were you reading over my shoulder when I was writing this story? :) Maybe it's because I love working with Palpatine's minions, too. Mas Amedda coming right up!

_In human hands, Damask suspected, rested the profane future of the galaxy._ (_Darth Plagueis_)

Chapter Three

The Chagrian cast a curious glance at the two in the box as he settled into his seat. Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda was an ambitious politician with a sense of orderliness that bordered on obsession. Tonight something chaotic and tense was passing between his Chancellor and his aide, and Amedda knew better than to speculate.

Palpatine had shared something with him only a few months previous, something so staggeringly overwhelming that Amedda had instantly abandoned any thoughts of manipulating this supreme chancellor like he had done to Valorum. This chancellor…was different. Too different. And dangerous.

Mas Amedda had done some fast talking that fateful evening, but what he had said had satisfied Palpatine sufficiently. Now Amedda was firmly entrenched in the upper levels of the future hierarchy. He carried out the multi-faceted and brilliant subterfuge in the Senate with ease, locking up the resistance's motions and proposals with long-winded protocol and little-known procedures. The two men could not have fit better together in politics than if Palpatine had planned it all out himself. _Or did he?_ Amedda wondered.

His own career with the Senate had begun before Palpatine arrived on the Coruscanti scene. Nearly from the age of a tadpole, Amedda had been groomed for the position of senator for the Champala world. And when he entered the gluttonous and rumor-ridden playhouse of the Republic senators, Amedda had seen the chance to reintroduce order and purpose to the corrupt system.

In fact, that was how he met Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. The man was a mystery. A formal reception for senators new to the city-world, the meeting had been accidental as far as Amedda was concerned. Looking back, he could not say the same for his leader.

"_Senator Mas Amedda?"The voice was male, slightly higher pitched than usual and rather nervous sounding. The face was unfamiliar: graying red hair, prominent nose, a narrow face, but friendly and open. The human was not tall but slender and straight. All in all, no threat. _

_Amedda relaxed, sighed, and tucked away his nutritional scanner. The sugary refreshments were unappetizing and unhealthy, as usual. He supposed if one could taste the food, it might explain the corpulence of so many of these senators. This one was not corpulent – must be either new to the party or vain. _

"_May I help you?" he asked at last, noticing the way the man's hands hovered in front of him, full of anxious energy. _

"_Why yes! I apologize if I've disrupted your eating. You see, late Senator Vidar Kim – may he rest in peace – had often mentioned you, and when I saw you…" he beckoned absently. "You are famous on Naboo for your honest approach to politics." _

_Naboo. How quaint. So this was the new senator of sovereign Naboo. What was the name? "Senator… Paltine?" he asked slowly. _

_Was the man really blushing with embarrassment? "Palpatine, actually, just Palpatine" he quickly offered, bowing forward slightly. "I am honored to meet such an esteemed Senator."_

_Amedda smiled tightly, pleased despite himself at the respect shown. Not many humans treated him like this. This Mid Rim senator had not yet experienced the arrogance of the Coruscant humans. He was uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air. For this reason, Amedda felt himself growing friendlier in turn._

"_An honor as well," he assured in his gruff drone of a voice. "It is a wonderful thing to see new senators come aboard, before they are assimilated into…this." He waved at the surrounding throng, a mass of feeding, laughing, gossiping Senators and aides. _

_Palpatine glanced in the same direction, eyes wide. "I confess, I was unprepared for such… extravagance." His eyes flicked back to the Chagrian's face, as if afraid that he had offended the more experienced Senator. _

_On the contrary. "Extravagance is the perfect word for this, Senator," Amedda growled. "This is what I fight against every day, a fat and happy Senate with no respect for law and order. All they care about are their paychecks and their entertainment." _

_Palpatine smiled. "Yes, well, I don't know much about all this, but I did want to speak further on that at some point. You are indeed as straightforward as my old friend has led me to believe."His smile was infectious, warm, and sincere. _

_Amedda liked this man more and more, timidness aside. Besides, he could use a less confident, sensible ally from the Mid Rim. Fate was kind to introduce him to this unassuming Palpatine, and he was looking forward to utilizing new talents. "Would you care to walk with me, Senator Palpatine?" he inquired. "I have little use for this display." _

"_As do I," Palpatine replied, one eyebrow lifting as he considered the much taller man, and the two moved toward a less crowded balcony walkway. The voice deepened as they talked, losing the nervous edge and gaining an easy rapport. It was a voice that beckoned to thoughts of friendship and consideration. It was a voice that spurred Amedda's imagination. That night, he and Palpatine talked of many things, the devolving state of the Senate, the discord between factions, the lack of respect for proper procedure, on and on. The new senator shared his political views willingly and freely, and they aligned perfectly with Amedda's own. _

But Palpatine did not share everything, withholding his true nature until most recently. How naïve the senator of Champala had been to think that he might hold sway over this singular creature. Instead, Palpatine had shown him his plans for uniting the Republic after the war into a single coherent unit, an Empire. He would bring an end to Senate corruption and the civil war at the same time. Amedda was content with that. They shared the vision of an orderly, straightforward Empire that would eliminate the laziness and corruption of the present government, a glorious future that would crush this devastating civil war. That vision was attainable through Palpatine, and might Amedda's future tadpoles be cursed forever if he did not jump at this chance.

Palpatine was really the only one who had any hopes of uniting the Senate behind him. Amedda had never considered himself a viable candidate. For one, he was connected with the Rim Faction, which made it a surety that the Core Faction would never follow his lead. That was why he had not run for Supreme Chancellor when Valorum had been dropped. Palpatine, on the other hand, had played his loyalty close to his chest, accepting neither faction's overtures.

He had played them all so very well. After elections, the Rim Faction had been convinced he would make a perfect puppet for them, a soft, well-meaning human on an inside track. Orn Free Taa of Ryloth had nominated Palpatine, so sure of his ability to control the man. Amedda snorted at the memory of the first time Palpatine had sided with the Core Faction. It was a customs issue, and Taa's eyes had nearly bugged out of his fat head.

Amedda had only smiled. At last, here was a Supreme Chancellor who stood up to those who tried to rule him. Here was a man who shot for the heart of the matter as he made straight the Republic, who removed the corrupted fools standing in his way. Taa had also been the Senator to nominate Amedda for the Vice Chair, but he felt no debt. The twi'lek was among the worst of those who brought the Senate a bad name. Taa's star had fallen the moment he had pushed Palpatine into the spotlight.

Of course, Amedda reflected, he had not been the only one fooled. Amedda had seen Palpatine as a gentle leader, a man with good intentions and a strong backbone but with no way of pushing his agenda through the mire of the Senate. Amedda had taken it upon himself to nudge Palpatine in the right directions. He had made suggestions to the Chancellor, and the Chancellor had taken them in stride.

'Twas a beautiful relationship, before he found out that it was all a façade. Before Palpatine used no uncertain terms to assure Amedda that he would not be manipulated. Before Palpatine showed him his own plans for the future. Amedda was an instant convert. He was not greedy – Chagrians hardly ever were – but he was ambitious, and he saw a place for himself in the New Order. A place free of the obese Orn Free Taa's of the Republic. Palpatine would do it.

Something shoved against his right shoulder, and he stared at Sate Pestage. The slimy human had never endeared himself to the Chagrian, and he rarely tried. Pestage both disliked and distrusted him, which never bothered Amedda. The man was a fanatical lunatic, all brownnose and no mind of his own except for his alien-prejudice. Yet he had considerable underworld skills, and for that Palpatine kept him. Surely there was no other reason.

Pestage nudged his shoulder again.

"What?" he grumbled, pulling his arm away and leaning back in his chair.

"I just received a call from your replacement in the Senate," Pestage sneered softly. He almost never just talked. He sneered, he leered, and he snarled and hissed. Amedda's lethorns stiffened in disgust.

"Why?" he finally replied.

'The deal on the Hydian Way Customs Center near Champala. It fell through." Amedda scowled. Pestage was laughing at him with his reptilian eyes. Funny that such a bigoted human would have such animalistic traits. "He wants you to come to the addressment tonight."

"Tonight?" Amedda was surprised. "He knows I am with the Chancellor tonight."

Pestage looked supremely smug, sharp little yellow teeth shining brightly in the gloom. "Ah, but I told him you would be there. The Chancellor will not need you for much longer."

_What does that mean? _Amedda glared at the smaller human, his long black tongue flicking with irritation. _I grow tired of your theatrical threats and insinuations. _He should have suggested that Palpatine be rid of Pestage long ago. Too late now, he had to put up with the scum. In a low voice that he hoped Palpatine would not hear, Amedda replied, "I'll go if the Chancellor requests it, but you stow it, lackey. I am the Vice Chair. You don't tell me where to go."

"Yet," Pestage grinned. He delighted in showing how close he was to the Chancellor, how he knew things others didn't. The Chagrian doubted he knew as much as he thought he did, but said nothing to the obvious baiting. He did, however, flex his clawed hand close to Pestage's face and watched the man quail backwards. _My turn to grin._

He looked away in time to watch Palpatine nod and smile at some interaction in the opera below. The politician appeared completely harmless as he watched the production. Only Amedda and a few others had any inkling of his true capabilities. _And, _Mas Amedda mused, _I suppose even _we_ have only seen the edge of him._

**So Amedda knows too, as a fairly crucial part of Palpatine's control over the Senate. I love to look at the play between Palpatine and his subordinates. How did he get them all on his side, anyway? Thanks to the novel **_**Darth Plagueis**_**, we know about Pestage, but not so much about Amedda. I always liked him, standing on that platform looking so business-like (But I know now why he was always so dour...he couldn't taste anything). We can look forward to the arrival of Anakin Skywalker in the next chapter. Read and review, and I'll give you Dark Side Chocolate (unless you're a Chagrian). **


	4. So Close

I've been having some trouble with the uploading thinga-ma-jig. I hope you've been able to access Chapter Three before this one. Finally, some hints of what's to come.

_Drawn in by the blinding rays of the sun,_

_Swathed in the shadows of darkest night,_

_He waxes strong in his delight._

– Ancient Sith Poetry

Chapter Four

The opera had barely entered the final act when he sensed with delightful clarity the approach of the One He Had Chosen and felt the black hole within him expand with savage hunger, but he quickly squashed those feelings away. At last, the time had come to bait Skywalker with his best offer, an offer the boy could certainly never refuse. Palpatine briefly flashed back in his mind to something an old political acquaintance had often said: "Politics is local, and people are selfish." Politics was also acting, and he was in for the performance of his career as he looked forward to using the young Jedi's selfishness against him.

He heard the soft patter of running feet, the sudden stop as the boy undoubtedly was trying to compose himself. Palpatine allowed a brief smile to flit across his face as he admired the raw energy held in check by the social norms of the boy's austere Jedi trainers. Not for much longer. He heard the whisper of dark robes, felt the Force approaching, bending at his side. Now, how to start?

"You wanted to see me, Chancellor," Skywalker was leaning close, gazing down at him with open curiosity. He looked somewhat haggard and care-worn, lean and dark. 

Palpatine brightened his eyes and lifted his head. Start him off with something good, something to whet his appetite for revenge, a revenge that the Council would likely never allow him. "Yes, Anakin. Come closer, I have good news. Our Clone Intelligence Units have discovered the location of General Grievous. He's hiding, in the Utapau system." 

Skywalker visibly relaxed. A faint smirk appeared as he exclaimed, "At last! We'll be able to capture that monster and end this war." 

_Not 'we,' my boy. Think a bit more arrogantly, will you? This was never about the Republic. Let me help you back to the right track. _"I would worry about the collective wisdom of the Council if they didn't select you for this assignment. You are the best choice, by far." He barely noticed the embarrassment the boy showed, but he drank in the pleased glance down. _There_ it was, that overconfidence, that un-Jedi-like pride. Pride ready to be shredded by the Council's better wisdom. _Hmmm… _"Sit down."

He glanced briefly to his left to indicate the seat next to him and saw that Sly Moore and the others still occupied their seats. Irritated, he growled at his assistant, "Leave us." As she and Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda herded Senator Concorkill swiftly from the private box, Palpatine noticed the triumphant look that Pestage threw at Amedda. _Curious_. The action in his box garnered the brief attention of the other opera-goers before they returned to the show.

The Vurk senator cast a glance back at Palpatine as he left, both curious and taken aback at his abruptness. Palpatine never looked at him. Several HoloNews reporters craned their necks to see what had changed, but Skywalker had sunk into the seat beside Palpatine and was no longer easily visible. He was waiting for the Chancellor to speak.

Palpatine drew it out, took a deep breath, and sighed. "Anakin, you know I'm not able to rely on the Jedi Council." Skywalker stared blankly, and for one irreverent moment, Palpatine wondered if perhaps he should have pursued a brighter protégé. Another nudge was required. "If they haven't included you in their plot, they soon will."

"I'm not sure I understand." He could see now that the Chosen One was stalling for time, deliberately obtuse. Palpatine was far from annoyed, for this was to be expected.

_You will not understand. To do that would require you to think past your training. _Of course, he could not say that, not yet. Instead, he pressed on, "You must sense what I have come to suspect. The Jedi Council wants control of the Republic. They're planning to betray me." 

In his misplaced and false-hearted loyalty, Skywalker jumped to their defense. "I don't think—"

"Anakin." No more half-hearted protests. Palpatine felt the black hole within him grow hungry again, and he fed it, sending one of his most searching gazes straight into the conflicted furnace beside him. "Search your feelings. You know, don't you?"

There was an unending space of time, a large question of uncertainty spreading across the sky of the future, as Skywalker contemplated his own thoughts. He evidently decided that stalling was the order of the day. "I know they don't trust you," he looked down at his boots.

_That was putting it mildly. _Palpatine shook his head in a mild show of disbelief and regret, adopting an affronted expression. "Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy, for that matter." He lifted his voice at the end, felt Skywalker glance up at him. Palpatine decided not to rush him and glanced away, catching sight of one of the Mon Calamari swimmers executing a sharp spin downwards. The opera was approaching its climax. He knew this act well. 

Skywalker drew him back from his musing. "I have to admit," the young man hesitated, as if speaking the words would burn him, "my trust in them has been shaken." 

Now that was better. The Chosen One was finally admitting the truth. Palpatine slipped with practiced ease into the conversation's opening. "Why? They asked you to do something that made you feel dishonest, didn't they? They asked you to spy on me, didn't they?" 

Skywalker shifted uncomfortably, once again avoiding his gaze. "I don't know what to say." 

_And perhaps you truly do not, at this point. Let me help you find your answer, then. _"Remember back to your early teachings, Anakin. All those who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi." 

"The Jedi use their power for good." Skywalker had come back quickly with that response, too quickly. His answer was rote memorization, not personalized truth. He had no faith in what he was saying, and yet he had no idea that he was already falling. 

"Good is a point of view, Anakin. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way. Including their quest for greater power." 

Skywalker looked vaguely amazed that Palpatine would speak such things. He kept arguing, much as a puppet dances even as the strings are cut one by one. His response was just as wooden. "The Sith rely on their passion for their strength. They think inward, only about themselves." 

Another textbook answer, one that Palpatine fully embraced for once. The black hole grew more insistent and writhed under his impeccable self control. This arrogant Jedi was doubting at last, and Palpatine felt the desperation, the hesitation, the anger, and the guilt. He thrived upon it, pushed it forward.

"And the Jedi don't?"

Something tickled his mind. He took it for the pleasure of laying his greatest trap. Soon. So soon… Destiny lay at his fingertips, sat in the seat on his left and pouted, whined, and whimpered for his help. And he would give it. Destiny need only ask. 

"The Jedi are selfless. They only care about others." Skywalker's final protest was weak, and they both sensed his bending will.

Palpatine leaned back in triumph, soaking in the conflict next to him as he looked down at the opera. The climax was beginning, the heroine crying out in watery despair, the hero giving in to his darker impulses, the villain mocking the pain of his victims. Palpatine smiled gently at the actor, knowing he would not be seen. _Take my bows for me, kind sir. My act is almost complete._ He turned to speak, to begin the end at last… 

And saw that Skywalker had straightened in his chair, losing the personal confusion and gaining a curious suspicion. The young Jedi looked much as he had on the flagship of General Grievous, all business and soldier. Palpatine felt himself hesitate for the first time in their talk. He did not need a soldier at this point.

"Anakin?" No response. "Anakin? Is something wrong?"

"I felt something." A soldier was what he now had. The Chosen One swept his bright eyes across the massive chamber. "I'm not sure what it was, but I know it wasn't… It wasn't right."

Palpatine grew truly irritated then. Of all the times to be interrupted by the Jedi's paranoia, this was not it. This was the calm before the triumph, this was the moment to fall into the arms of his Fate. "Anakin," he gently chided. "Perhaps it was the bass flutes used in the hero's decline. Those always did surprise me with the intensity of their pain –" _So close!_

"No!" Skywalker interrupted, his voice sharp. "It's not that! I felt it from the audience, up there." He pointed to the highest levels, where the less fortunate came to watch the operas. The concern in his voice was enough to make Palpatine wish to forgo his deception, to use his own perception of the crowd, but he could not, not if he were to ensnare the boy fully. Still, he felt helpless and blind as he rose from his chair and visually searched the upper levels.

"I don't see anything, my dear boy." _Nothing but the future darkness before me, soon to be mine, my own destiny._

Skywalker leapt up beside him. "I think we should remove you from this place, Chancellor. I have a bad feeling about this."

**Dun dun dun… This is Palpatine's point of view of the infamous Opera-Conversation-That-Got-Cut-Short. Most dialogue is taken from the film's scene, but I wanted to try getting in his mind. What do you think?**


	5. Interruptions

Chapter Five

Of all the events and possibilities in the galaxy, being interrupted by the bad feelings of a Jedi just as he was about to make his greatest coup was not what Palpatine had expected. And what he did not expect, he certainly did not enjoy.

"A bad feeling?" Palpatine chuckled, making sure to put a nervous tremble in his voice. At the same time he spoke with the subdued voice of the Chancellor, he searched the audience with hawkish eyes. "Many beings get a bad feeling now and then. I still believe the music must be affecting you. Let me order some drinks and we'll –"

"Down!" Anakin screamed, shoving his hand at the Chancellor. A wave of the Force flew out and caught Palpatine across the chest, knocking him down into the foot area of the viewing box. At the moment he fell, a large blaster bolt tore into his seat from above, narrowly missing his chest.

_How did it make it through the force field? _Palpatine questioned distantly. _They disengaged it! _He had no more time to think along those lines as Anakin threw himself down over the older man. A barrage of bolts flew over them and tore into the opulent coverings of the box. The explosions were loud and sharp. In the next boxes over, opera-goers began to scream and shove for the exits, tripping over their extravagant robes and gowns in their haste to flee.

The two Red Guards that had remained in the box lunged forward to protect their Chancellor. One was almost immediately cut down by the wave of fire from above. The other deflected several rounds with his Force Pike before he too was flung to the ground beside them. Skywalker reached out an arm and shook the guard's shoulder. No response. Dead, no doubt.

"Anakin," Palpatine rose on one arm, "What is going on?" He offered a feeble push against the young man in an attempt to rise, but Anakin held him in place with a firm and metallic hand. Palpatine's eyes faintly gleamed at the panic and fear running through the boy.

"Chancellor! Stay down! There are assassins in here! I don't know how many!' His eyes were wild, with indignation brightening them. "I think they're wearing some form of visual disruptors. I thought I saw movement earlier, and now I know why!" He rose to a crouch above Palpatine, igniting his lightsaber and peering over the railing.

Palpatine flinched as the blade deflected a loud bolt less than a half meter from his head. _Come on, now. Do your hero thing and save the day and let me get back to the matter at hand._ "Who could they be?" the befuddled leader of the Republic asked instead. "And how could they have gotten in?"

Anakin spoke harshly between bolts. "I – don't know. Separatists – spring to – mind!" He caught every bolt that was sent at him, but their mysterious assailants weren't going easy on the boy.

Palpatine decided that discretion would be the better part of valor this evening. He had no time for fool-headed assassination attempts. Raising his head cautiously, he eyed the closed exit of the box and tugged on Anakin's leg. "If we could go out, I think we'd be in a better position to discern our next step."

"I agree," Anakin glanced back, deflecting another bolt meant for his head. "There are too many to remain here. They'll – eventually move around until they can shoot – Blast! – (one bolt caught the edge of his metallic hand and sent up a shower of sparks) – from any direction."

He calculated carefully, his eyes and hands moving fast, blocking every deadly projectile, then he was dropping down again beside Palpatine, their faces close. "I'll pop up then. Give them a target. You go for the exit. I'll be behind you." The Chancellor's pale blue eyes met Anakin's brilliant ones, and Palpatine saw no room for argument with the warrior.

Inwardly, Darth Sidious grimaced. _If you harm a hair on the head of this magnificent boy, whoever you are, you will live to regret it, for a very long time. He is mine! _"My brave boy," Palpatine said instead, "I think I can manage, but do be careful."

"Always, Chancellor," Anakin replied with a half-smirk. "Get ready." Palpatine cursed the lack of the Dark Side as he rolled to his hands and knees, gathering the veda cloth up and preparing to run. Where were the other Red Guards? Where were Sate and Sly? If the assassins had killed his assistants, what an inconvenience that would be!

"Go!" Anakin shouted in a brief lull. He leapt to his feet, pulling Palpatine up behind him and then leaping to the railing's edge. A new barrage of blaster fire came from three different directions, and Palpatine took a second to admire the sheer skill of his future apprentice. He moved with the breathtaking fluidity of a vine tiger.

A stray deflected shot brushed by Palpatine's nose, breaking his hypnotic fascination with the Chosen One and spurring him into action. He tripped forward and staggered towards the door. Without the aid of the Dark Side, Anakin's unexpected Force push had winded him. Not to mention an old Chancellor would not be expected to leap nimbly to the door. He made it to the control panel and pressed his palm to it, gaining confidence when the door flew open with a _whoosh_.

And cried out in real shock when something sharp slammed into his shoulder, spinning and reeling him backwards over the last row of chairs in the box. As he landed hard between the seats, Palpatine felt a fire-like pain spreading from his shoulder to his chest. He glanced down and saw a large silver cylinder protruding from the point of impact. _This would not be happening if I could only retaliate_, he thought.

What a night this was turning out to be. Momentarily stunned at the turn of events, Palpatine glanced over the backs of the chairs and looked through the door. As if in slow motion, he saw one of the assassins straightening up in the hallway. The bodies of his Red Guards lay scattered at the feet of the bulbous-eyed alien. Sate and Sly were nowhere to be seen, at least. The assassin grinned at Palpatine, their eyes clashed, and the blaster lifted to fire.

"Anakin," Palpatine breathed, angry. In an instant, Anakin was there, dropping down out of a Force leap in front of him and blocking the assassin's view. The bolt from the gun exploded harmlessly against the door frame, and the alien snarled and fired again and again. Anakin returned each shot almost without effort, but his face betrayed the tension he felt.

Palpatine struggled to sit up straight between the seats, sneering despite the growing fire in his shoulder. He soaked in Anakin's fear like a sponge, feeling his dark powers pushing at the borders of his mind. The blaster fire that surrounded them seemed to slow to a crawl in the current of the Force.

How the boy could fear! It boiled from his being with the intensity of a sun, washing over the Supreme Chancellor in waves. And he let the waves crash over his head, let them toss him for a sweet infinite moment into the future. Fear led to anger in Skywalker even as he watched the Chosen One deflect every bolt. Anger that his old friend was threatened. Anger that even Coruscant was not safe from the enemy's touch. In his mind's eye, Palpatine saw the anger turn to future hate and suffering, and he was made strong. Perhaps even this unexpected evening could be turned to further Anakin's path to his side. Anakin's blind loyalty and attachment were a boon to the Dark Side.

But something was wrong! The assassin in the hall lost his nerve and turned suddenly and dashed away, Anakin spinning on his heel to face the assassins still in the main auditorium. Palpatine could not drop fully into the Dark Side, not when Anakin stood just over him, but something screamed danger! He stayed crouched between the seats, eyes scanning the house. Everywhere, senators and society's cream scrambled over their chairs and acquaintances. Alarms were wailing, and the actors far below were quickly aborting their opera. He took in the bodies of the security guards scattered here and there and spied the shifting forms of at least five assassins as they rained fire down on the Chancellor's box.

Anakin still held his own against the assassins, even winging one with his own blaster fire, but he was growing frustrated. Palpatine glanced down at the control panel on one of the seats and saw that, indeed, the force shield that protected the box had been disabled. Somehow the assassins had gotten hold of the codes. An inside job, it had to be. Only five others possibly had the codes to his box. Sate Pestage, Kinman Doriana, Mas Amedda, Ars Dangor, and –

**Ah, a cliffhanger.**

**Vialco: Thanks for reviewing again. Yeah, I've heard of Wyyrlok, but I haven't read much at all of the after-original-trilogy stuff. Amedda gets more interesting the more I write him. He's growing on me. When he smiled, Pestage was lording it over Amedda that he had known about the night's events and Amedda had not. But we'll see, so stay tuned.**

**And you others, thanks so much for the favorites and alerts. Now, you can just leave a tidbit of a review. I won't zap you with Force Lightning, honest. :)**


	6. Just Not His Night

"No true Sith can ever really care about another." – Palpatine (_Darth_ _Plagueis_)

Chapter Six

The explosion did not let him finish his thoughts in time. It ripped out from the hallway into the box, carrying a wave of debris that slammed into the Chosen One's back and tossed him like a child's Nubian rag doll against the far railing. The enforced seats Palpatine crouched between protected him from the most direct damage of the blast, but shards of metal flew through the air. Several caught the side of his face and upraised arm. Palpatine hissed, unheard and unseen in the noise and smoke.

The sound was momentarily muffled as well as his ears struggled to recover from the blast. He felt, more than heard, the distant rumblings of more explosions. _Well, this is another unexpected development_, he thought sardonically when the body of a Red Guard landed at his feet, twisted over the seats, mask ripped from his head, head half ripped from his shoulders.

The Supreme Chancellor was undisturbed by the sight. Far worse, he had seen, and would see. Instead, he craned his neck over the seat back and looked for Anakin. Through the thick smoke, he caught sight of the Jedi's body, unmoving on the floor, and for a brief second, Palpatine panicked, thinking his future dead on the floor, but then his iron will took over.

_He is not dead. I have not foreseen this. _As if through the power of positive thinking – a ridiculous concept – he spotted the Chosen One's chest rise and fall with a ragged breath. _He is only unconscious. _A curious sensation of authentic relief washed over him. He had not fully realized how much emotion he had forced himself to invest in the boy. _But we are still in danger. _And he was still unwilling to use his powers while the Opera House was so full of beings.

The laugh behind him was something Sidious expected. It was a dark and feminine sound, one he recognized with crystal clarity. He stiffened, feeling the first surge of true anger that night, anger born of betrayal. The fire in his shoulder fled from the curtain of cold rage that swept over him. In his perusal of the currents of the Force, he had expected this betrayal. Just not yet. Not now.

"A glowing testament to your race's secrecy," Palpatine growled as he slowly dragged his gaze from the Chosen One to face the pale eyes, "that you could contain this hatred from me, Sly Moore."

"It comes naturally to us Umbarans," Sly smirked. His aide stood in the door to the ruined hallway, untouched by the devastation that she had wrought. "But I didn't hate you until a few weeks ago! Did you honestly think that I would take this from you? That I would just sit back and let you replace me without any reward? Any thanks? Your ingratitude and your arrogance blinds you!" She toed a Red Guard from her path as she moved into the box.

"Ah, well, the only reward you might have remaining now is a quick death," it was a dark lord's smile that crept across Palpatine's bloodied face, "and I cannot promise that."

"You think the threat of pain will stop me?" Sly was getting angry. _Good_. "Old man! I would rather die than be relegated to some thankless, petty appointment. Anything is better than that stagnation. I wanted to serve you, to move up with you! But you held me back! Because of HIM!" Her voice rose to a low shriek, hand thrusting out to jab at the unconscious boy. "You would never train me like you trained the others, even the count! They're dead now. I am alive! I could have been your greatest servant!"

"I can arrange that death for you if you prefer," Palpatine offered. He smirked when she snarled at him, and slowly his hands rose into the air. _Placate the distressed creature_.

Sly Moore inched around him, both hands now clutching a small blaster, eyes flicking between him and Skwalker. "I can change your mind still," she promised with deadly intent. "I'll kill him. You can't stop me. You'd risk bringing the Jedi down on you here. I'll finish him, and I'll be the stronger. And then…" she hesitated, then decided. "Then, if you won't take me, I'll kill you too."

Sidious snorted with disbelief. _The child is delusional. She actually intends to carry out her threat. I may have misjudged her capacity to hold a grudge, and her skills with the Dark Side._ He rose from behind the seats and straightened to his full height, barely taller than his wayward aide. But height mattered little, as that green toad of a Jedi master often touted. Power was what mattered, and she held none.

Never looking away from her, he backed out from between the seats and shifted closer to Anakin's form. As he did, he asked, "Now, dear, you're truly telling me you ever had a chance? You know who I am. You never had what it takes to 'move up with me,' if we must utilize such vulgar expressions. I really don't know why you decided to throw away such a valuable career like you have done today. But, you know, I find I don't really care about that either," he shrugged. "You were a valuable servant, one of my favorites, but now, with this boy, I will have my destiny written across every star. You, I'm afraid, will not be there to witness my glory."

Sly scowled, flinging up the business end of her small but powerful blaster. "Hardly!" she scoffed. "You see, I knew you were powerful. I knew you were hiding things from me. But I have learned from you, some things you did not mean to teach! You will fall before the year is over, Master," she spat the title like a disease. His smile grew fainter, only a touch of dark, mocking mirth left in his eyes.

"How so?" he asked as he approached Anakin, coming to a full stop just between the boy and the woman, unflinching as he stared into the business end of her weapon. The other assassins had gone silent since the explosions. He began to send very tentative, very slight tendrils of the Dark Side into the massive room, searching for the presence of light side users. Faint signs, growing fainter. He grinned anew.

Sly shifted under her flowing robes, clearly nervous despite her bravado. "If I cannot kill you now, and believe me, I will try, then I shall let you have the honors."

Palpatine chuckled, as though he were sitting in his office discussing the latest Senate gossip. Inside, he was more confused that he liked. "Cease your cryptic prattling, if you would. Why would I kill myself?" He questioned her for time, time to finish his mental sweep of the opera house. And he was so close.

"Oh, you won't do it willingly," Sly assured, now lowering and pointing the blaster squarely at his chest. "If you slither out of tonight, you will become well acquainted with a special Umbaran drug, rare enough in the universe to escape even your Sith alchemy, my lord. We use it on our worst enemies. One drop of it will cause even an Umbaran to spill his darkest secrets on a whim. What secrets might you have, my lord?"

Sidious stood still, considering. Did she think her drugs powerful enough to stop his rise to power? To halt the triumphant dominance of the Dark Side that had been so long foreseen? Laughable. So he did, low-pitched and slow, derisive.

Her pale, normally expressionless face contorted in hate. "Laugh all you want, fool! I'll kill you now!" And her finger pulled the trigger. A second too late.

In that second, Sidious had judged the entire opera house and detected no Jedi, none alive or awake, at least. This would be chalked up as an attempt by dark side users, perhaps even the elusive Sith Lord, to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor. He was secure in his alibi, and he moved with clear purpose, raising his hand and sending the bolt flying back at Sly Moore.

She screamed in rage and fear as it singed her left arm. But her tenacity was admirable, were it not directed at him. She kept firing the gun, now rolling away from him. He returned fire until another bolt struck her leg and she went down to the floor. She resorted to the Force, attempting to throw his balance off, and he threw hers instead, flipping her onto her back. She was sweating with her exertion, growling. He was still standing in front of Anakin, smiling more broadly now, but an angry smile, blood loosed by debris trickling down over one yellow tinted eye.

"This half-hearted attempt at assassinating me is insulting, Sly," he called to her over the alarms and screams. The entire Opera House and its panicking occupants dissolved into a grey mist in his mind's eye. He was focused on his betrayer with single-minded purpose. "Did you think I would give you the means to kill me? I am not one of your force-blind targets." He approached at last, coming to stand at her feet.

She raised the gun with her good arm to fire again, and he used the Force to rip it from her hand, her pale fingers catching and snapping with the pressure. She howled, tears leaking from her eyes. The Chancellor who was fast becoming something else knelt by her side, reaching down and taking the ruined hand in his own, gently.

"Poor dear," he murmured, meaning nothing of the sort. "It is in your nature to betray, to fight like a civilized animal to the top of your class. But Sly…" he leaned in, brushing his free hand over her forehead in a perverse amusement. "…you are not in my class." His hand curled around hers, and he crushed the already broken bones with the Dark Side. "And you should never have betrayed me with something so simple as assassins," he whispered under her cries, and he caught the sound of more distant blaster fire, different this time, more systematic and disciplined. _Clone troopers_, he realized. They would make short work of this rabble, just as he had made short of work of his betrayer.

When the Umbaran finally caught her breath again, a hard thing to do in all the smoke, he felt her trembling. Ah, or was she laughing? He leaned close again when she started to speak. "Arrogance will be your downfall, arrogance and Sly Moore," she sneered through her pain. "You taught me about contingencies. Well, so be it." Dark alarm expanded in his mind, and he lashed out with the Force, but she still managed to press the small band around the wrist of her bloody hand.

**Well, today's just not his day. What's that crazy Umbaran done this time? Thanks for all the reviews and feedback, folks! I greatly appreciate it. Sith dark chocolate chip cookies for everyone. **

**Vialco: Yep, you guessed the villain, all right. During my research on Umbarans in the Star Wars species guide, I found out some cool stuff about their tendency to resort to assassination rather than remain in a dead-end job. **

**TheWayfaringStrangers: Thanks for the review! I admit I get caught up in "researching" these fictional people and places, but it's too much fun! :) **

**Jack: Not a bother at all! I always enjoy feedback on my stories! In my studies of Palpatine, disregarding the after-trilogy EU, he seemed to have a soft spot for Anakin (the scene at Mustafar can be easily interpreted that way.) Sometimes, when you play a role for long enough, you can absorb part of the character. I would guess since he's a Sith Lord, he wouldn't want to admit it to himself or anyone else, though. I laughed pretty hard at the visual image of Obi-Wan you made. As far as Palpatine turning to the Light, absolute power corrupts absolutely, or tends to anyway… and he's had a lot longer than Anakin to get set in his ways, but we'll have to see. ;) You should get an account so we can discuss things further! :) **


	7. Dark Side Unleashed

"We're all in this now!" Palpatine (_Darth Plagueis_)

Chapter Seven

_What have you done?_ He opened his mouth to protest, raised his hands to unleash his final punishment, and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as one of the loudest sounds he had ever heard thundered across his eardrums. He staggered suddenly, as the ground beneath his feet moved, a rolling rumbling passing up through his refined politician's boots.

From her curled, broken position on the floor, Sly Moore barked a laugh and gasped out, "Let's see you manipulate _this_! The cream of society at the bottom of Coruscant!"

He had no time to answer as the entire floor leapt sideways, throwing both of them against the wall of the box. Sly Moore slid through the door on her back, good hand clutching at the frame in a panic before she slipped away into the wave of dead guards and debris. He watched her go with detached amazement. Perhaps she had not underestimated him after all.

In his mind's eye, he pictured the opera house, carefully suspended above a gaping chasm by the anti-gravity thrusters and powerful support beams. Sly Moore must have overridden the safety thrusters and exploded the structural base. He could feel the entire building shifting sideways, sliding with terrible sureness back upon itself. This was problematic…

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anakin's unconscious form finally flip over one of the seats and begin falling toward the horizontal doorframe. The deafening sounds of tearing metal and screeching girders paralyzed him at the same time Palpatine felt a lurch in his chest unrelated to the falling structure. He finally leapt forward and managed to catch the edge of Anakin's dark vest. With an effort, he pulled the Jedi's limp form onto the wall next to him. The Chosen One was still unresponsive.

He had not the time to think clearly. The tilt was becoming more pronounced, and now debris from the rest of the Opera House was falling his direction. The body of a man he quickly recognized as Romeo Treblanc hit the wall next to him, staring sightlessly up. Unfortunate, because the man had been useful. Palpatine jerked away, pulling Anakin closer and casting his gaze overhead. Just in time, because a large row of cheap opera seats was plunging down upon them. He could not hesitate, and he opened himself to the Dark Side at last.

Over his splayed fingers, the seats were swept away. The Force swirled into his clawed, outstretched, twisted hands. He clutched it to himself, denying his truth no longer. It swelled in him like a raging black dragon emerging from a black hole of nothingness. His eyes transformed into sickly yellow flames as he seized and diverted each piece of debris that threatened his Chosen One, yet there was nothing sickly about his grasp of the Dark Side. He would not be denied. Not this time. The coldness in his heart told him so.

But he would have to do more. The opera house was now turning, falling in the other direction as it overbalanced and began its slow plunge into the chasm below, and it became more difficult to both hang onto Anakin and protect himself. Palpatine gathered up the Chosen One in his arms and leapt sideways, down onto the fortified place between his box seats. For security reasons, his box was much more sturdily built than any other. He almost slipped, but he focused and pushed Anakin down between the fast-vertically-turning chairs. He took the Jedi's belt and looped it over and through the legs of one chair, securing him in place. Then the Supreme Chancellor and released Sith Lord did the same with his own belt.

Now his test was coming, and to be honest, he greeted it with savage enjoyment. No longer was he hiding. He felt refreshed, emboldened. If he could save them from this, then perhaps his original plans could be salvaged easily, as long as the Dark Side responded to him so swiftly. Never had he felt so powerful, so connected with the shadows. He steadied himself on the chair's back, peered over the edge into the main auditorium, and began to reach out in the Force. _Let come what may! _

It roiled under his touch, the ground bucking in rebellion. He spread his arms and hooked his hands, throwing tendrils of the Dark Side around the girders behind him, above him, beneath him. The opera house shook madly and groaned. Sidious slid deeper into the Force, losing his visual sight and gaining the eyes of the darkness itself. He watched himself spread out to the far corners of the massive structure, watched himself seep into every corner.

The sliding continued, fighting his grip. His head snapped back, and his unseeing, all-seeing eyes glowed. Not if he had anything to say about it! At last he surrendered his full identity to the Dark Side, becoming one with the invisible, pressing shadows that poured from him. He no longer heard the screech of metal, the groans of the dying, the explosions of machines and containment shields. He heard only the roaring, devouring hunger of the Dark Side. He had surpassed anger here as hunger took its place. He seized on that hunger, forcing it to conform to his own ravenous appetite. Hunger for safety, hunger for success, hunger for power, hunger for the Chosen One.

The sliding Opera House groaned in protest as the very laws of physics were assaulted within it. Blood began to seep from his pores alongside the sweat. He held on. Slowly, it began to respond, parts of it slowing in descent. Other parts ripped free as they continued to move toward the edge. The few beings who remained in the building and the scores of clone troopers held no hope for survival. Few gained any as the Opera House began to tip into the chasm between the skyscrapers. The speeders below strained their engines in a desperate bid to outrun its fall.

But this fall was not free. It was unnaturally slowed by even more unnatural means. The Dark Lord of the Sith, stretching his mental powers, perceived that if falling at a less steep angle, the structure could in fact be caught between the still-standing superstructures around and beneath it, that is, if the pressure did not rend it to pieces. But it was his only choice, and consequently, he devoted all his power to this possibility. There was no try, only success or failure, and he determined his success within. And impossibly to the ones watching on the outside, the Opera House began to settle out almost horizontally as it descended. Even the non-Force sensitive creatures sensed something that evening, something dark and deadly and determined, and immensely powerful.

xxxxxxx

Mace Windu was ripped from his meditation deep within the Temple with the force of a Tatooine twister. He gasped and clutched his head in pain as it throbbed under a sudden and indescribable darkness. The Dark Side! Unleashed! Here on Coruscant! The normally austere and collected Jedi Master moved faster that night than he had in years as he sped to make contact with Master Yoda.

Kit Fisto found himself struggling to console a group of twenty sobbing younglings as they experienced the Dark Side for the first time in their young lives. He felt the disembodied voices of the Force-sensitive around him crying out in discomfort, and he was discomfited himself, far more than he supposed a Jedi Master should be.

Agen Kolar and Saesee Tiin staggered loose of their deadlock, their training sabers dropping to the sparring floor. Each leaning on the other's arms, they sought to come to terms with the black power that swept over them, and could not.

Yoda grimaced and clutched at his cane as he felt the distant disruption from his place on Kashykk. The Force had shifted in its balance, and something evil had boiled up at last. Was it the elusive Sith Lord making his move at last? They had no time to lose! He shook away the gruff concerns of his clone commander and moved with purpose to the nearest transmitter. Surely the others had felt this.

Obi-wan Kenobi nearly threw up at the feeling in his stomach when he encountered the wave of Dark-Side energy as he perused the Temple's library. His heart skipped several beats as he thought in horror, _Anakin! Where was Anakin? _He was on his feet in an instant, running from the room, unnoticed by Jocasta Nu as she leaned heavily on her desk, head clutched between her wrinkled hands. What was happening?

**And the Jedi begin to make their appearance in the story. Something big is going down in Coruscant. Will this be the end of Mon Calamari Opera? Stay tuned! **

**Jack: Obi-Wan does make an appearance finally, but he's only got two good legs and two eyes. From the films, Palpatine and Moore seemed to be a similar height, but I looked on Wookepedia, and he's supposedly shorter than her. Whoops. Ah well. I knew he was short, but I wasn't thinking that much. As far as future chapters, I've got a loose idea of where the thing is going, but I'm always open to suggestion. **

**Vialco: Yeah, the Umbaran species has fascinated me for quite some time, since I read about them in the New Essential Guide to Alien Species. Sly Moore was the only one who could have physically had a chance to hide her intentions. And she was high enough in his power circle to do a bit of damage, as we see in this chapter. I read in one book that the Jedi did indeed investigate her for the very reason you suggest. **


	8. Capable

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. No one does." – Palpatine (_Darth_ _Plagueis_)

Chapter Eight

In the depths of unconsciousness, the Chosen One felt the universe tipping on its side, screaming in protest. He was mired in a deep fog that refused to let him rise and drive the darkness away. But this darkness was flowing over him, not at him. It was caressing him with its power, promising sweet rewards for his attention.

He struggled to touch it, curious what it meant. Was it hurting him, or was it helping? Something was clouding his head and thoughts, something was holding him back. Obi-wan? Where was Obi-wan? Padme? Palpatine? _Master? _That wasn't right. Palpatine wasn't his master. Where was Obi-wan? Where was the light? There was only darkness here…Driving, hungry darkness. ..and he feared it.

He fought the shadows that rose as if to choke him, but when they settled around his body, he found he could still breathe. Yet the warmth was leeching from his core, replaced by a cold emptiness that frightened him with its…_unbeing_. As if he were hovering before the entrance of a starving black hole, the hunger was never ending, but neither was the source ever filling.

What was happening to him? As if the Void had focused on him, he felt his darkest thoughts pulling from his mind. The Tusken raiders flashed across his sightless vision, their cruel spears raised high over him, over his devoted mother. The sharp and jagged points stabbed down into his head, and suddenly he was a tiny child, rocking back and forth in his mother's arms as she explained the reason for his slave chip…

"Be strong," her achingly beautiful voice called, her smile gentle before morphing into the sneer of the dark and tattooed creature that flung itself against Qui-Gon Jinn in the dust of Tatooine. The blood-red lightsaber swung down and cut a squealing Tusken Raider in half, its abruptly blue blaze exploding through the head of the next one. The smell of blood soaked into his nose.

"I killed them all! Every one! They deserved it!" His hate-filled voice deafened him, erupting from somewhere in the abyss. He cowered back under the force of his own rage and barely missed the swing of one of General Grievous's droid guards. The rage transferred to his bodiless counterpart to him in a heartbeat. They had threatened his oldest friend. They had tried to harm Palpatine! He surged up into the shadows, pulling them around his shoulders like a cloak and falling, invisible and terrible, on his foes.

His mind kept turning over and over, pounded by the unceasing surf of a mighty and dark ocean. Padme was there in his mind, screaming with him, but her belly was swollen and she was dying! "Padme!" he shrieked! No sound came from him. He struck harder! The shadows swallowed him.

xxxxxxx

Civilians and military officials alike stared in awe at the descending center of entertainment. The Galaxies Opera House looked hopeless, ripping free of its supports with each subsequent explosion and slipping sideways and down. The few Jedi watching the spectacle were distracted, clutching their heads in varied degrees of agony. The informed military leaders were panicking, as the last they had heard of their Supreme Commander was that he remained within, possibly already dead.

Ships were converging on this point as fast as possible, immense construction stabilizers meant to shore up the collapsing structure. However, their size impeded their speed, and the Opera House maintained its slanted decline. Directly in its path, a large superstructure of apartment dwellings waited. The civilians within were quickly fleeing the path of the oncoming and outsized projectile, belongings and homes forgotten in their desperate plea for life.

Bystanders clutched their ears at the first impact. The side of the Opera House crushed into the reflective anterior of the apartment complex, lighting the night air with bright explosions and piercing alarms. The shields that defended the apartments from stray speeder crashes crumpled under the immense pressure. The circular opera house scraped down the side of the apartment building, tearing further into the front of it as it plummeted, the resistance beginning to slow the descent.

It was a long shot and a near-impossible hope, but if it could rock back against the skyscraper it had once perched upon, the Opera House might settle long enough to be completely evacuated and re-supported by the stabilizers. If it did not disintegrate, that is. They forced themselves to focus on this one chance. If they didn't, they would be faced with the reality that the stability of their Republic was slipping down into the chasm alongside the Galaxies Opera House. 

xxxxxxx

Mas Amedda had spun on his booted heel at the sound of the first distant explosion. He stood on the office veranda of his successor and the current Champalan senator, but his attention was firmly focused on the flashes of light radiating out from the Entertainment District. The flesh of his lethorns twitching with apprehension, he could not help the feeling that his Chancellor and Visionary was in some sort of trouble.

"Lord Speaker?" the senator, Pa'ad Dmiddo, tried to catch his attention. He was almost an indigo blue and shorter than Amedda, and his political skills barely filled the gap the other Chagrian had left behind, but he was as much a friend as anyone to Amedda, and he now sensed the Vice Chair's deep concern.

Amedda turned to the senator and bowed. "My apologies, Pa'ad. I believe something may have occurred near the Chancellor. I need to get back quickly!" He was looking for the taxi that had dropped him off when he felt the cool metal of a datapad key being pressed into his hand.

Dmiddo was offering, "…can take my air speeder. Should I alert the Senate to a possible situation?"

Amedda had completely forgotten about the rest of the government. He shook his head and said, "They'll find out by Holonet soon enough. If you say something in the Senate while we know nothing, you could probably start a riot, or a stampede." He could just imagine the panicking senators deciding that a mass assassination attempt was in store. Of course, depending on how many had attended the opera tonight… He would have to preside over the Senate in the Chancellor's absence…

He filed the thoughts away with brutal efficiency – couldn't afford them – and taking the key, hurried to Dmiddo's brightly colored air speeder.

xxxxxxx

In the depths of the Force, Darth Sidious had lost all sense of self. He was an instrument of the broiling Dark Side, the conduit of its overwhelming power that speared from his fingertips to the very bones of this place. The strain on his blackened soul, his twisted heart, was immense, but he refused to let go, even as the Dark Side stretched him thin.

He was suspended in a trance, his physical body bound to the seats beneath him, his Force presence flowing over everything he perceived. Beneath him in the Force, the Chosen One was a storm of lightning and thunder, recoiling from and embracing the darkness that fell to it. He sensed the fear, the anger, the hate, and it gave him more strength. Survive this, and Darkness would have the most powerful apprentice of all time. What a prize for which to fight!

The Opera House was tearing itself apart as gravity pulled it down and the Force held it up, support by snapping support. Large chunks of the outer edges were tearing away. The dark conduit became aware of the distant and growing sound of destruction. Only a little longer and the building would cease to fall. He had to hold it together! And he was doing it too, the ground beneath his boots shuddering as the close side of the Opera House finally struck the lower portions of the Uscru District. Unaided, the building might have kept falling far beneath light and sight, but the Dark Side was his ally, and a powerful ally it was.

The building over-tilted as it began to settle, rolling as the far side that had caught in the opposing apartment superstructure came to a stop and the near side continued to settle in, smashing through multiple street levels with ease. Gravity started a complete shift. Anakin sagged against his belt in the opposite direction. Sidious came back to himself at the intense shaking, aware at last that his efforts were paying off. Still, he commanded the Force, lessening the impacts and explosions.

What he did not realize in time was the effects of the sudden new tilting. Without warning, a wall of debris-filled water, the water of Squid Lake no longer contained by its shields, slammed into the Chancellor's box. Crashing over the small seats and flooding the entire area, the water enveloped both Chosen One and Chooser.

Robbed of life-giving oxygen and slammed back against the seats, Sidious lost his once-powerful grip on the Force. The building tilted further and faster. Thank the Force, the belts held the men in place, but as the water rushed by in its pursuit of the lowest place, they were buffeted by the debris it carried. Tucked between the seats, Anakin evaded most of it.

The Sith Lord was not so lucky. As he struggled to hold his breath under the torrent, a sharp metal fragment of a great beam stabbed into the seat beside him, missing him but severing the belt that held him to his place. In a fraction of a second, he was tumbling head over heels in the flood, reduced to fear and anger in the face of helplessness.

His fortune was not entirely gone. He did not flow out into the ruined hallway and into the dissolving side of the Opera House that was melding with the streets of Uscru. He had not come this far through secrecy and opportunity to die of an operatic tidal wave! He stretched out and flipped himself through the water with the Force, a last desperate attempt to catch himself on the wall. He succeeded, and the last of the water passed him by to gurgle through the door into the hall. The building was catching on both sides now, digging and entrenching itself into the other buildings. The huge stabilizers were humming, drawing up underneath the distressed structure, shaking the Opera House as it settled into their shielded grasp. It seemed that once again, he would survive all odds to take his prize.

When his bloodshot eyes and exhausted mind noticed the falling section of ceiling, it was too late.

**Now everyone's going to have to deal with the fallout (pun intended), and who knows how that's going to go? Read and review! :) Anakin gets some POV time at last, and Pa'ad Dmiddo (pronounced Pie-ad Dmeedo) is an original character of mine. I was unable to find any information on the senator who took Amedda's place, so I had to improvise. We may see and learn more of him later.**

**SpaceHead3: Thanks for reviewing! Yeah, he may need to resort to alternative methods. **

**xpig-in-the-skyx: Thank you! I'm glad you like it! We'll have to see about Anakin. :)**

**Chandlia: Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying this. Sly's a slippery character. You never know when or where she might turn up. One way or the other, Palpatine is definitely in for a ride he wasn't foreseeing. **


	9. Consequences

Chapter Nine

There was a certain danger in becoming personally involved with Destiny, Palpatine mused as he lay on his back, peering through the dark, thick smoke that hovered in the air just above his face. One could become greatly distracted to the point of losing track of the next nuance in the Force. He had savored planting the seeds of Skywalker's downfall too much and too long to realize that the Force had changed plans.

To have fed on that fear and indecision a moment longer, to have offered the last temptation…, but no. As a consequence of his obsession, the evening's trouble had gone unnoticed. Also as a consequence, he now lay on a rather uncomfortable pile of rubble deep within a ruined opera house, the Chosen One still tied to a chair, lying a mere few feet from his outstretched right hand. He wanted to laugh at the symbolism, but the dust choked him, and he coughed instead. It was very dark, as most of the lights had lost power. Now an eerie glow composed of emergency sticks and half-buried beacons suffused the main chamber.

Skywalker was not hard to see. The aura of the Force pulsed around the younger man in a kaleidoscope of black and white, red and blue, shining silver and flaming gold. The Supreme Chancellor wondered that the Jedi could not sense this child-man's inner turmoil. Any sentient being hardly needed to be Force-Sensitive to tell that Skywalker was a walking time-bomb. Even unconscious, his young face was twisted with secret pain, pain freshly brought to mind through their interrupted discussion. Palpatine had no intention to discontinue that conversation for long, injury aside.

But to himself he turned. The first thing of which he truly became aware was the long metallic needle. It stood up from his shoulder, shiny in the dim light and obscenely clean amidst all the smoke and dust. He felt an irrational surge of anger at this invasion. His left hand jerked up and grasped the long cylinder, pulling it savagely out and thrusting it into the darkness beside him. The pain was sharp and acidic. The clattering sound of the rolling needle continued for several seconds. He coughed. _Now to assess the situation. _He pushed over to his side, aware that the pain in his shoulder was still lingering.

What had been in that container? A poison? A drug? He could not fathom the reason for shooting him with a needle only to blow him up with the entire Opera House. Perhaps a kidnapping had been the first intention of his assailants. Before Anakin had changed their plans. Perhaps not. But didn't he know who assailed him? He ought to. He coughed. Time would tell. Time blurred for a moment into blessed darkness…

When he came to again, he attempted to climb to his hands and knees, but he realized such an attempt was unlikely to succeed. What gave it away was the raw and searing pain that flamed through his lower legs when he tried to draw them up. Palpatine hissed, angry. Mobility was key, mobility was crucial. Of course, his legs had to be what ended up shattered. Perhaps just broken, but they felt shattered. Shattered by that last falling bit of debris, which was now lying jaggedly across the door to the ruined box. _What timing_, he thought, almost giddily as the memories started to return. Had he thrown it there with the Force? He could not remember.

His mind felt shattered too. Battered was a better word for it. The Dark Side had drained him of his energy. His heart was pounding in his chest. Focus, something that came to him so easily, now evaded him. His thoughts came in chunks. Palpatine wanted out of this place. He remembered at last that the needle might also have something to do with his mental state, but that made it little easier to bear. Slowly, he rolled over to his back again, unwilling to invite the fire to his legs.

If only he could concentrate. If he could maintain his purpose, he could put this pain in its place. What Sith Lord caved to pain? A weak one. He was not weak. He was… He was…so tired…

_Fear leads to anger._

_Anger leads to hate._

_Hatred leads to power._

_Power leads to victory._

_Let your anger flow through you._

_Your hate will make you strong._

_Kill her! _He jolted awake as some distant debris crashed down on his left, raising his head up, the Sith mantra dying to a dull roar in his mind. He was still on his pile of rubble. He sensed that Anakin remained just beyond him, unmoving, cold and hot at the same time. Why was the boy still unconscious? How much time had passed? Palpatine's head now throbbed much like the drums that those wretched Wookies beat. A fascinating rhythm. He was content to listen to the primitive symphony for a while, but as he listened, he became aware of other sounds. Distant, very distant, alarms blaring. Lots of groaning, some screams. The screeching of metal as it shifted all around him. A shaking in the pile of debris he lay on.

The collapse came back to him slowly. The Opera House, the Mon Calamari… The climax! Interrupted and postponed. Only postponed. He was still certain of that. He had been too eager to claim the man-child, and he had paid for his inattention. His head throbbed. Why? The needle… The needle! They had done something to him! Not they, but her. Sly Moore and her petty Umbaran games! He would rip her apart for her insolence, to tiny shreds of blood and flesh.

His hands twitched, and he stopped scowling. She was already gone. He remembered now. The dust tried to choke him again, and he licked his dry lips and teeth, tasting blood and metal, an unpleasant combination. He had to get up, to get out of here. It was not safe for either of them. Not safe for his boy, his future… The shaking finally told him that their position was precarious. With all his luck this evening, they were likely dangling over a 100-meter chasm. He was sure he remembered the Opera House shifting with the explosions, almost sliding to the bottom of Coruscant.

He had stopped it for long enough. They were not in a million pieces scattered across the depths of the city planet, at least. The stabilizers must have arrived in time. But such use of the Dark Side was demanding. He felt thinner, weaker, bleaker: like a vessel robbed of its contents and then smashed with a hammer. Palpatine had not felt so drained since the time he and Plagueis wrested control of the Force decades ago. His hand came up slowly and brushed at the soft and sticky ooze of blood dripping from his nose. Hopefully the internal bleeding had stopped by now. Every part of him ached, even his eyes. Especially his eyes. He had not used Force vision like that in many years.

Had not needed to, because his foresight had rendered it obsolete. So what had gone wrong tonight, and what could be saved from this disaster? His mind was still sluggish, refusing to provide an answer, so he instead tried to listen to the sounds around him, to gage the rescue efforts that had to be underway. Granted, it would take their would-be rescuers some time to reach this infernal inner chamber.

He was never attending another Mon Calamari opera again. Maybe he would outlaw it once he was Emperor. Palpatine groaned at the superfluous thought. Why could he simply not focus on the here and now? Losing his train of thought had rarely been a problem, but tonight seemed to be a night of irregularity. The Sith Lord dreaded the idea that the Umbaran drug might actually be affecting him, but he could not discard the suspicion.

Slowly, he began to turn his mind inward, to peruse his body and identify the toxins within, stretching to touch the first steps of his extensive Sith sorcery, a skill he had been long in developing and fine-tuning. Unexpectedly, the Force kicked back against him, almost making him retch and constricting his chest. He clutched at his shoulder as the fiery pain flared again. _Too soon, you idiot. You did too much too fast. Plagueis warned you about this. I think you've thrown the Force out of balance with your little…display. _Patience was necessary once again.

So instead, he fished tentatively in a side pocket of his robe for his emergency beacon. He slipped it out and turned it on the unmoving Jedi. Anakin's face shone pale in the beam, and there was blood in the wet and matted hair, but the Chosen One was breathing evenly enough. Palpatine wondered how badly Skywalker had struck his head. Sith were rarely good at healing, the one area that the Dark Side tended to fail its user, and it failed Palpatine in a particularly spectacular manner. He could suspend and compel, but true healing took far too much positive energy.

The Chancellor carefully straightened up into a sitting position, rolling his broken legs slowly out in front of him, leaning back on the tilted wall and rubble. As he tried to wring out the sleeves of his robes, his hand brushed up against something hard and slimy and cold, and he curiously turned the beacon down. The clawed front arm of a Mon Calamari jutted from the wreckage. _They don't smell as bad as Pestage says, or maybe it's the blood plugging my nose. _He shook his head at the disjointed thought and instantly regretted it.

Eventually his attention turned back to Anakin, and the weak beam of his light caught the flash of Anakin's lightsaber hilt, firmly wedged between the seats close to the Chosen One. His mind offered in a strange moment of random clarity, _Get rid of it before he wakes up. You'll live longer._ And before he could second-guess himself, he was worming over the debris to Anakin's side, dragging his legs behind him, shuffling the pain to the back of his mind.

When he reached the lightsaber, it practically fell out into his hands, as if it desired his hold. He turned it over twice, hefting it, nodding his approval at the fine, if not artistic, construction, and then tossed it out over the railing into the blackness. Anakin would need a new one anyway once he belonged to the Dark Side.

Satisfied that at least one future problem had been eliminated, Palpatine inched his way back to his pile of rubble. He didn't want to be near the boy when he woke up, just in case the Jedi reacted badly. Soldiers often did upon waking, and Anakin was as much a soldier as a guardian of the peace. _How does that poor secretive wife of his wake him up?_ He imagined the erstwhile queen and dignified senator tossing a datapad at Anakin's head, and he choked out a soft laugh. 

A groan from a few feet away caught his wandering mind. Flipping the beacon's light back over Anakin, Palpatine watched the younger man cough and finally open his eyes.

**Palpatine's going to have a fun time trying to slip his way out of this one, especially with his Force-adrenaline-crash and that Umbaran truth serum. I will try to post one more chapter before a brief lull of about 2 weeks. I've got some big rl stuff happening here in April. **

**If you all are interested, I created a little bit of Palpatine fan art over on Deviant Art. If you search "palpatine senate" and make sure you're looking at newest results and not popular, you should see it, by TheArtsyAardvark. Enjoy! **

**Green Verde: Thanks! :) **

**xpig-in-the-skyx: Me too. It's fun to toss him out of his comfort zone. He's been there way too long as an all-knowing smug Sith Lord. Thanks for reading/reviewing! **

**Darth Mihi: I can't say much about Sly Moore either way, but Anakin is also in for a ride in this story. I'm starting to really like Amedda the more I write him (and I can't believe he's not a character option in the story setup page.). Thanks for reviewing!**


	10. Worlds Turned Upside Down

I

"No true Sith can ever really care about another." – Palpatine (_Darth_ _Plagueis_)

Chapter Ten

The young Jedi took a while to come to, his blue eyes flickering open and shut several times. Raising his shaggy head, he squinted into the emergency beacon's light and blankly asked, "Chancellor…?"

Palpatine turned the light down. The Force having drained him of his energy, it was all too easy to fall into the role of subdued politician. "Sorry, my boy," his own voice sounded parched, a peculiar effect when he was soaking wet. "Are you all right? You've been out for a while."

Anakin was recovering his wits now, straightening up. As he did, he scowled in pain. "Blast! I think my shoulder got turned. What happened to me?" He strained to study his own injury, and Palpatine turned the light to help him.

"It seems the assassins decided to bring down the house before the show even finished."

Anakin grinned in the faint light. "So no encore?" It was amazing how fast this Jedi could bounce back from near-certain death.

Palpatine would have shuddered if it did not hurt. "Bless us, I hope not!"

Anakin's smile faded. "I think my shoulder will make it. Not so sure about my head. Feels like a couple Reeks stampeded through. I would know…" He noticed his belt tied to the chair and stared questioningly, finally untying it and putting it around his waist again. Then he looked for his lightsaber, but of course it was nowhere to be found. Anakin rose to a low and cautious crouch and moved down the tilted box to the door, boots scraping over the shredded floor, peering over the frame into the darkness below. "Can I borrow that, sir?' he beckoned to the light.

Palpatine tossed it obligingly. Catching it with ease, Anakin studied the view and sighed. _100 meters, _the Chancellor thought flippantly before asking, "So…how does it look?"

Anakin grimaced. "I'd say, oh, about 100 or so meters to go. We're not going that route."

_Force! _He scowled.

Anakin turned quickly. "What did you say, Chancellor?"

Palpatine grimaced, barely able to hide his frustration with himself. Had he said that out loud? Surely not. But Anakin was staring at him, waiting for an answer. So he pulled a look of embarrassment across his face. "I said 'Force.' You appear to be finally having an influence on my choice of words, Anakin."

Anakin flushed. "Obi-Wan would kill me if he knew you learned that from me. He hates it when I use 'Force' like that. Thinks it's disrespectful. I can see him now: 'Anakin, now you've gone and done it. You've corrupted the leader of the free worlds.'" Even now, far from the stifling presence of his former master and half-mocking, he still sounded like a chastened Padawan.

"I sincerely doubt that," Palpatine smiled faintly. "But soon, you'll have me not only swearing like a Jedi but trying to leap great distances and saving the galaxy." He twisted it into a mild joke, not entirely-faked pain leaking through his voice, trying to force back a very real cough.

Anakin became concerned. "You've done far more world-saving than I, Chancellor. You are the glue that holds our Republic together."

The irony made Palpatine chuckle out loud. He quickly turned it into a self-deprecating laugh, which turned of its own accord into another bout of coughing. Anakin grew alarmed. He slid up the floor, crawling over towards the older man. Something in the metal groaned in protest. "How are you, sir? Let me see to you." Anakin was moving more fluidly now, his injuries nearly forgotten as he arrived at the side of his old friend, hovering over him and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Palpatine was disconcerted by the look in Skywalker's eyes. Something he had rarely seen honestly and fully directed at him, and this time he was not certain of its meaning. Concern: a powerful emotion with a thousand possible motivations behind it. He had utilized it many times in his quest for sympathy and support, in his mission to control those around him. But to use it without an ulterior motive…what a waste of effort.

Anakin evidently disagreed, asking, "What happened? Were you knocked out? Did you hit your head? How do you feel?" His voice rose with each question.

"Briefly," Palpatine managed to squeeze in. What had brought on such a wave of consideration almost bordering on panic? The hand on his shoulder was trembling. The light in Anakin's hand turned on his face, and he reflectively slammed his eyes shut against the painful brightness.

"I'm sorry, sir! How many fingers do you see?" Anakin was serious, swiveling the light away to his own hand and holding up his two first fingers. It was surreal. Something buzzed in the Chancellor's mind. He mentally pushed back and was met with a wave of pain. Too soon.

"Two, Anakin…" he sighed as he looked, reaching out and pushing the fingers down. "I'll be all right. I just…I'm just shaken from the fall. And…my word, boy. You missed quite a revelation." He gritted his teeth as Skywalker insisted on invading his personal space, laying the beacon on the floor and gently feeling along Palpatine's skull and neck. The Light of the Force flowing over him as Anakin searched for wounds was sickening.

Anakin mistook the dim glint of his teeth for an expression of pain and apologized, "I'm sorry Chancellor, but you might be hurt worse than you think, if you're in shock. What do you mean, a revelation?" He pressed down Palpatine's sleeves as he spoke, all business in his attempt to distract his unwilling patient.

"It seems someone wished us dead, Anakin," Palpatine said quietly, grunting when the boy brushed up against the tender place where the needle had struck him. Anakin looked up in surprise at his words, just missing the pain his touch brought. Skywalker had no need to know of the needle, so Palpatine seized his chance to redirect the conversation. "Or me, at least. My aide, Sly Moore…she was not the loyal companion she appeared to be."

Anakin's eyes flared with anger, and he froze in place. The anger was shocking in its sudden appearance and washed over the chancellor like a healing balm, smashing the Light Side out of its path. "She attacked you?" He slammed his metal fist into the ground next to them. "She betrayed you! Unbelievable, ungrateful little –"

"Anakin," Palpatine offered a mild rebuke, but he latched on to the feelings pouring from the Jedi. _He…hates her? For attacking us…no…attacking me. How interesting. He's come along even further thanks to the incident with Dooku. I can use this nauseating attachment. _"I admit, I was not expecting this." _So soon, anyway. _"She was…but now how could this be? She was using the powers of a Jedi."

"That can't be right," Anakin jerked back in alarm, yet his brilliant blue eyes filled with curiosity. "She has never been trained as a Jedi. We had to do a background check on her, when…" He clamped his mouth shut as some directive of the Jedi Council came to mind.

Palpatine was darkly amused. He could guess without the Dark Side what the Jedi suspected, that Sly Moore was indeed the Dark Lord. _Trust it to the Jedi to assume the most dangerous looking one is the worst._ "I don't have a wide range of experiences battling such fighters such as you, but her methods were of like kind. She wiped out many of my guards with little resistance." He looked away and took a deep breath. For some inexplicable reason, the next words were difficult to say. He worked his mouth before managing, "As it is, I'm lucky to be alive." True enough, from a certain point of view…

Anakin struggled to control his anger, finally letting it slide away in the face of his growing concern for his mentor. He moved his hand to the Chancellor's left leg, and Palpatine bit back an authentic groan when Anakin reached his shin. "Easy, Anakin," he gasped. "I took some damage down there, I'm afraid. Both legs…"

Skywalker's face pinched up as though the injuries were his own, jerking his hand away. "Oh sir, I'm sorry! I should have been there for you. How bad is it? I'm not a healer. I was never good at this sort of thing!" He was getting overwrought again. "If Obi-wan were here –"

_Thank the Force he was not! _"No, Anakin! You have done so much already. You were unconscious. Very little gets accomplished in that state, even for the Hero With No Fear." Anakin took a ragged deep breath, and they sat in companionable silence. Anakin was obviously relieved at Palpatine's words, as though he were excused from some thought-unpardonable crime. _He can never do enough, or so he thinks. And the Jedi are most helpful in drawing out this sense of inadequacy. _

Finally, Anakin leaned back on his heels, balancing easily and looking strangely comfortable amidst the damage, barely visible in the dim glow of the emergency lights. The alarms were still going off, the metal still groaning and shifting. He peered at Palpatine for a long moment, as if deciding. "You saw her fighting. Do you think she was the Sith Lord?"

_How would I have known if she were?_ "No," he said instead, and was shocked. He had not meant to say that!

Anakin did not notice his abrupt consternation and kept pressing. "Why not? You said she was using the Force."

Again the answer came without warning and without his mind's permission. "She was not skilled enough." _What are you saying! Stop now! How would a Force-blind Chancellor rate a Sith's skill? I don't "know" anything about this._ Anakin was offering an inquisitive stare, and Palpatine scratched at his brain for an excuse."I mean to say, I would think…a Sith Lord…would have been harder to defeat."

Anakin mused, "Yeah, you're probably right. I was out of it, so I didn't see her fall. Maybe she got away. Or maybe she fell down there." He motioned at the door and the blackness beyond, but his mind was starting to ask questions, to fill in the dark gaps of his memory, and Palpatine became concerned. Too many more questions about Sly and he would be in jeopardy for certain.

Anakin was talking again. "What happened anyway? Why are we so tilted? Did she try to collapse the opera house too? Why are we so wet?" He patted at his soaked shirt in disgust.

Palpatine actually had to struggle to keep his mouth shut when Anakin asked his questions._ I am _not_ going to be the one to tell him we are meters from plunging to the bottom of Coruscant. I have said too much already. Feign sleep! _"I…" he trailed off, allowing his eyes to close and his shoulders to slump with exhaustion. To his irritation, he heard the Jedi move close again and gently touch his shoulder.

"Sir? Sir! You can't sleep yet, Excellency," Anakin sounded half terrified. "You have to wait until the medics get here! Talk to me, sir! It won't be long now."

Palpatine roused himself slowly, confused and becoming highly uncomfortable with the effect of the drug. It was unlike anything he had experienced before, seizing his usually adroit mind and opening it to suggestion. Each question asked came across as a direct command. A dreamlike state, almost. It threatened his control of the situation, and it threatened him. He almost snarled, but remembered himself and only sighed. "I'm just trying to rest, Anakin," he murmured wearily. "I won't sleep, you have the word of a Chancellor on that…"

Anakin grinned through his strong fear. "Ah, ah. But you're a politician, sir, and Obi-Wan has taught me too well." He patted Palpatine's good shoulder, more out of nervous energy than true cheerfulness. The boy was worried about him. Anakin began to rummage around on the floor, searching for the emergency beacon. He found it and raised it up. "Here, sir, I know this might hurt, but I should take a look at your eyes and check you for a concussion. Look up here, Chancellor."

Palpatine lifted his head, unthinking, obeying. Anakin leaned in close and shined the light into his face. The Chancellor flinched at the sudden brightness, but not nearly as much as Anakin flinched in return. The Chosen One dropped the beacon and fell back on his knees with a gasp. There was naked fear in the boy's eyes.

_Force! _Palpatine thought fiercely, once again, and tensed for the coming storm.

xxxxxx

Anakin was just recovering from one of the worst frights of his life, from the idea that his friend and mentor and closest thing to a father he still had was seriously injured, perhaps dying. Palpatine had looked so frail and small lying on that rubble when Anakin first saw him, a broken shadow barely visible, and it had thrown into his mind the horrific image of his mother. On her back, broken, bleeding, dying…murdered. The fear was the same black dragon that coiled tightly around his chest, making it hard to breathe.

The heart-stopping fear had been replaced by pulse-pounding anger when he learned that the slime ball Sly Moore had attempted to murder Palpatine. His nightmare seemed to be starting over again, this time with a father instead of a mother. It was as though the universe seemed determine to orphan him of his dearest friends and family. He could only rage back, helpless, until Palpatine had talked him around. Good, patient, longsuffering Palpatine.

After the star-bright anger had come the shame and self-loathing. He had been too late to save his mother, and tonight he had been near useless when Palpatine most needed him. It was a miracle the older man was alive, if Sly Moore was really a Sith. He was always too late to save those he loved. It was a nightmare on a recycling pattern.

Palpatine might not be aware of how much he meant to Anakin, as he was an extremely busy man, but the young Jedi was desperate for attachment. And when Palpatine cancelled a meeting or played the absent card in the Senate, all to meet and talk with Anakin, a former slave of Tatooine…well, it felt wonderful. It felt as though he mattered, as though he were a person and not an unfeeling Force machine like the Jedi seemed to think. There was a connection between the two that gave Anakin something to fight for. He had nearly been too late on Grievous' command ship, and Anakin had vowed, _never again. _

Well, he messed up again, unable to stop Palpatine from being hurt, and unable to heal his obvious pain. Anakin was no good at healing, never had been. How could he be expected to muster so much positive energy when his loved ones were in agony?

That had been the worst of his worries. At least until now.

Now, Anakin clutched at the sides of his head and groaned softly. This was all still a nightmare! It had to be! His mentor and father figure could not be staring back at him with the sickly yellow eyes of a Sith Lord! But last he had known, Palpatine had no cross-species family history. There was only one logical explanation.

"You!" he gasped out. Black swirled at the edge of his vision, little flashes of light dancing in bright, mocking circles. "You can't be!"

"Anakin?" Palpatine was drawing back against the rubble, thin hands rising up cautiously, yellow eyes no longer brightly glowing in the light but still gleaming faintly. How had he not seen before?

It was all making sense now! Too much sense, the pieces falling into place with dreadful clarity: Sly Moore's attack, the Guards swept away like children instead of the deadly warriors they were, Sly Moore's own disappearance, the current state of the opera house, Palpatine's survival even when his Jedi protector was down, his knowledge of Sith Lords… Anakin could not breathe!

Palpatine was the Sith Lord! His friend was the Sith Lord! The one who was bringing Anakin's Republic to its knees, the one who was running both sides of the war…

"Anakin? What's wrong?" Palpatine sounded concerned.

That mild voice! Those gleaming yellow eyes! The deceit! The betrayal! Anakin let out a wordless roar of rage and lashed out, unthinking and instinctual. His metallic fist smashed into the Chancellor's large nose, breaking it with a sharp snap and releasing a fresh spray of blood. Palpatine let out a surprised and shrill cry, his head snapping back with the force of the blow.

His hands came up to cover his nose, and he stared up at Anakin, unmoving, frozen in place. The Chosen One saw a hint of fear in that nearly hidden amber gaze, and the fear suddenly made Anakin aware of what he had done. He was frozen now as well, studying the bright red blood that dripped over Palpatine's hands, blood that covered his own hand. This was his friend! This was his worst enemy!

Palpatine made a tender swipe at his nose, breathing heavily through his mouth. His face held no clear expression, but his eyes were alight with a foreign fire.

"You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you?" he asked at last in a low, curious voice, watching Anakin, following his hand closely, tensing for another potential strike. Anakin thought it entirely unreal, the way the yellow eyes – so long a pale and concerned fatherly blue – came alive with a dark awareness. Eyes that knew pain intimately and reveled in it. He saw very little of the man who had always listened to him, always taken him into confidence, never breaking the bond of trust between them. Now he saw a wild animal cowering behind the face of his dear friend.

It was infuriating! "I would…I _would_ like to kill you!" he snarled.

"I know you would," Palpatine hesitated. "I've not been…entirely honest with you."

"You haven't?" Anakin growled, flexing his hands in anger. "I thought you _were_! You were the only one who I thought I could trust! And now!" His mind flashed back over the many years of their companionship, the laughter, the tears, the encouragement and the lack of judgment. Was it all a lie? Every part of it? He had to know.

"Did you ever really care about me?" the pressure building in him was agony, a large sob of rage and betrayal bubbling up in his chest as he reached out and shook the older man roughly by the shoulders, ignoring the other's wince of pain.

"Yes," Palpatine hissed softly, surprise and frustration flashing in quick succession across his bloodied face. "Yes…"

The uncharacteristic combination convinced Anakin that Palpatine was speaking the truth, but he was only more confused by the revelation. He had thought the world could tip no further. Sith did not care about the people around them. They only used them like stepladders to personal gain.

But Palpatine's barely audible "yes" had driven the fiery rage out of him like a punch to the abdomen. In a moment, he was again seeing the frail form of his mentor. Palpatine cared. About him. Was it only because Anakin was powerful, or was it something more? "Why are you doing all this? Why are you destroying everything?"

Palpatine set his jaw and looked as if he would not answer, but he lost his inner battle and reflected quietly, "My master once said, 'Decay has no cure. It has to be eradicated by the flames of a cleansing fire.' That is what I am trying to do Anakin. All that I have done… has been to attain a higher purpose. The Republic has fallen too far to be saved, and so it must be rebuilt from the cornerstones."

His master. Palpatine was a Sith who once had a Master. The thought was ludicrous. "It's fallen because you made it fall!" Anakin accused, the bite in his voice bitter and sharp.

"No…" Palpatine protested. "No…it fell, long before I came. Its destiny was already written. It has become corrupt and inefficient. Anakin, it needs firm guidance. For the good of everyone in this galaxy, the Republic must fall."

"And you just happen to be here to pick the pieces up and tuck them away," Anakin snapped. In truth, however, Palpatine's words struck too close to home. How many times had Anakin wondered about the same thing? He remembered the argument on Naboo with Padme. _If it works, _he recalled: the idea of one man to bring order back to a chaotic universe.

But this was not theory! This was a man, who was his friend, who was the Sith Lord, who was currently in a position to gain unending political power. This was a man who ordered thousands of clone troopers to their deaths every week. This was a man who sat by him and comforted him when his mother was long buried under the sand and the wound still fresh as ever. This was a man who turned on his apprentice in seconds, ordering his beheading with as much regret as a Rancor chews its dinner. This was a man who treated him as a responsible, capable, respectable adult.

Who was this man? Did he dare find out?

xxxxxxx

It had been hard not to retaliate, so hard, when Anakin struck him. But a soft warning from the distant Dark Side told Sidious to hold his place, to allow a hint of fear to leak into his eyes. Fear would shock the boy, because deadly Sith did not fear Jedi, and so it had. Anakin had seen the fear and, consequently, the Chancellor and not the Sith Lord.

Said Sith Lord realized the importance of the mentor-façade, and he began to concentrate on willing away the dark thoughts that still drifted through him and caused the yellow tinting. To aide the process, he focused on his brutally honest answer. Yes, he did care about the boy. More than he should, and more than he had ever intended. He had gotten too close as the Chancellor, forgotten his planned future in the quiet moments of camaraderie, in the admiration of such a powerful ally. It had happened before, and he thought the lesson had been learned. Apparently not. _I have focused on the present again, Plagueis. _

But even this weakness on his part could be used to his advantage and the wellbeing of the Master Plan. His answer had stopped Anakin in his tracks, turning his righteous anger into confusion. It was far too soon to tell which way Anakin would turn. This whole evening had come too soon. The future lay just beyond his exhausted reach.

On one hand, he had the Chosen One, the warrior meant to bring balance to the Force. Now, Sidious intended that balance to be the rise of the Dark Side, to snuff out the centuries-long stranglehold of the dogmatic Jedi. But Anakin had been told countless times that he would destroy the Sith. Both Sidious and the Jedi had chosen Anakin for their standard bearer. What would _he_ choose? And how could Chancellor Palpatine influence this premature choice?

By being himself. Subtlety was the best approach, a refusal to enter the gladiator ring, a refusal to provide a clear target. Anakin could not hate him yet. He was not rooted deeply enough to the Dark Side. Sidious thought back to the conversation before the Opera House had devolved into madness, the words that had been on his lips before Anakin stopped him. The subtlety of love…Padme…There had to be a way. Padme was still the key.

But it seemed that the Dark Side had forgiven him for his abuse of power, because at last he could hear the near shouts of the specialist SAR Troopers.

**SAR (Search And Rescue). I figure they'd have something like that for natural and unnatural disaster areas. Hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter, almost 4k. It was quite a ride, and they're not quite safe yet. **

**If you get a chance, feel free to check out my newest 2-part story on the time Anakin and Palpatine first met, a sort of missing scene from **_**Darth Plagueis/Phantom Menace**_**. **

**Chandlia: Thank you! That's pretty funny. I didn't know about what his clone did. I guess you found out if his eyes were still glowing…and so did poor Anakin. I'm glad you enjoyed the art too, and I hope this isn't too bad of a cliffhanger.**

**xpig-in-the-skyx: Thank you kindly, I have a lot of fun trying to get into his mind. It's rather disturbing sometimes, though. **

**Darth Mihi: Thanks! As you can see, Sly managed to make Palpatine talk, a little. He's fighting it with everything he's got. No straight out killing. For Anakin, it would be similar to turning on Padme (which he did once he was far enough into the Dark Side though…dundundun). I'd be glad to check out your chapter. Let me know when it's up. **

**GL: Thanks for reviewing! I'm not sure where she would come in. I personally love the Star Wars Clone Wars series, but I was always under the impression she was long gone by the time Episode 3 rolled around. **


	11. New Birth of Sorts

o

Weaker than the powerless is he who has power and refuses to use it. – Old Sith Proverb

Chapter Eleven

"Any survivors here?" The call was distant and barely clear.

They stared at one another for a long minute, until Anakin cleared his throat, rubbed his head, looked away, and said, "I think that's the Sars…"

Palpatine studied the side of the Jedi's face. What he saw was an uneasy mixture of fear and anger. But there was hesitation too, in the way Skywalker's hands twisted together as though seeking something solid like a lightsaber. _Good luck there. _He waited. The silence stretched out another minute. The SAR shout came again, and when Anakin still floundered, he prodded, "I suppose then… we ought to call for help?"

Anakin turned full on him, eyes sparking to life with confused rage. "How can you just say that? I can't! You're the Sith Lord! I should be calling the other Jedi, not rescue help!"

A stressful night combined with a waffling Jedi made for a short fuse on Palpatine's temper. He snapped out with his own significant anger, "Anakin, we can discuss our respective views of the Force when we are out of this hanging death trap, but –"

"No!" The shout startled him, and before he fully grasped the situation, he was dangling in Anakin's iron fingers, buried in his collar and fastened to his neck. Anakin pushed them both back until Palpatine was pinned between him and the slanted wall. The Dark Lord snarled when he felt the pressure on his throat and the fiery agony in his legs, struggling to push the pain to the back of his mind and focus on the greater threat.

He pushed against Skywalker's arms, but they were immovable short of using the Dark Side. "Anakin, what are you doing? Let go of me!" he wheezed out.

Anakin's blazing blue eyes were inches from his own as he growled, "No! No. Not until I have answers from you! And I will get them if I have to -" his voice drifted away, but his hands squeezed again, and Palpatine hissed. The claws loosened.

He managed at last to speak. "To what? Hurt me? Kill me? Anakin, listen to yourself and calm down. You don't need to threaten me to get answers. They've always been here. You need only ask."

"Why did you never say anything then? Why have you lied to me?"

He tried so hard to overcome the serum. "Anakin, I have n… ha…" And failed. So he decided to bypass it. "Think of it this way, my boy. Do you think I would have been long for this world if the Jedi knew of my existence? They are relentless against the Sith."

Anakin pulled him back and roughly slammed him against the wall again. Sidious nearly bit his tongue at the fireworks that exploded through his brain, and he was unprepared for the raw pain in the Jedi's reply. "Because you are the servants of the Dark Side! You seek to bring chaos and pain to the Republic! I'm sick of chaos and pain! I'm sick of what you've done to us!"

_What I have done? Dear boy, I am only beginning. _"We've been over this before, Anakin. Pain will always accompany new birth. But out of chaos is born order, order of your own power, order of whatever you desire. The Republic is stagnate and dissolving, a slow and ugly death." He leaned toward Skywalker, let his voice lower to a confidential, friendly urging. "I say…let it. Help it to its grave, so fewer may suffer."

Anakin's grip became lighter again, his mouth opening in shock. "I still can't believe what you're saying!"

"It is painful, doubtless, but you know this. Sacrifices must sometimes be made for the greater good," the pain rolling over him was nearly enough to sidetrack him, but Sidious refused to let the Jedi have the last word. So much was at stake here tonight. If only he could clear his mind. If only the SARs would get here. He could still hear them, coming closer and still shouting for survivors.

Anakin was not listening to reason at the moment. In fact, he appeared to grow more incensed. Palpatine watched his eyes narrow and the lips draw back, almost in slow motion. Such glorious anger, but so misplaced. "Good? Good! You don't know what that is, you snake!"

The anger began to seep into Palpatine. Had he full possession of his faculties, such temptation would have been easily overcome. Alas, he was still recovering, and the anger felt so soothing, so normal, so right. Why were these infernal Jedi so obsessed with semantics? Something in the back of his mind told him not to take the bait, but his expression soon matched Anakin's. "Really? Good? Evil? Is everything so black and white to you? Don't _you_ lie now! Don't tell me you see through the blind eyes of the Jedi! I have always shown you the vibrant colors of a larger world. Are you perfect?"

"No…" Anakin hesitated.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Anakin reeled back, lowering Palpatine until his feet dragged the tilted floor. "Yes…but it was self defense! I am a soldier and a Jedi!"

The new wave of pain in his dangling legs pushed him on with an unholy and faint smile. "And a murderer of women and children, am I not right?"

"You!" Anakin's mouth contorted, and he threw Palpatine back from him, launching the Chancellor into the ruined wall.

Palpatine couldn't help the cry of pain that escaped him, or the fit of coughing as he landed in the dusty rubble. His hands twitched as he wrestled control of his body back to himself, panting with the exertion. _Perhaps that went a little far. You really should turn it away from you. It is much too early for this…but did you ever feel such sweet hate? _

He finally became aware that Anakin was standing over him, nearly shouting down at him. He struggled to tune in. "You made me do it! You made me kill him!"

_What an irresponsible dolt. Such power and he won't even take the reins. _"I ….eeh… have a greater opinion of you than that, Anakin. You are not a puppet on a string, pulled this way and that. You make your choices, and you are stronger for it. I have encouraged you to find the truth, yes. Do not blame me for Dooku's death. And certainly not for the Tusken Raiders!" That at least, was the truth.

Anakin had grown quiet, and Palpatine could sense an encouraging tendril of sorrow. "I did make my choice," the Jedi mourned. "My choice to trust you! And I will likely regret that choice every day of my life."

Slowly, the Chancellor forced himself to sit up straight, tucking his legs under him and ignoring his body's protest. His face schooled into a solemn mask, Palpatine adopted a gentle tone. "But I know you, Anakin. I know you. And I know you are in great pain, because you are tearing yourself in two, my boy. You seek the role of an emotionless Jedi, but you are Life itself, living and breathing and being. You seek a life of meaning and purpose, something mightier than endless meditation. The Sith acknowledge such a love of life. We are not afraid of ourselves."

Anakin got defensive at that. "How can the Dark Side embrace life? Look around us! Look at what you have done!"

Palpatine let the anger go, just barely. He waved at the surrounding debris, patted the jagged beam at his side. "This? I have not 'done' this! I stopped this!"

That stopped Anakin. "What?"

"The opera house was collapsing. It would have reached the bottom of Coruscant by now, had I been afraid to meet my true feelings, my true nature. But I was not afraid of my power, Anakin, and I held back complete destruction."

"You…stopped the entire opera house from falling?" Anakin's dumb look of ill-concealed awe could have rivaled Jar Jar Bink's.

_With some help from the neighboring structures_, but he managed to suppress the thought at last."The Dark Side is a pathway to many abilities, some considered to be…unnatural."

"That is more than even Master Yoda could do! That's impossible!"

Palpatine sighed, longsuffering, indulgent. "Look for yourself. Sense for yourself, I beg you. It has been said and seen, that the Dark Side can save what you treasure, save it from even death itself. I saved _you_ tonight!"

Anakin stepped back from him and knelt down. A flickering gleam of something hopeful appeared in his eyes. Palpatine felt the future shudder around him. Weak, but growing stronger with every passing moment. "Have you seen this?"

Time to be careful. "Seen what?"

"Have you seen the Dark Side give life?"

Well, there was no way of getting around that one with any subtlety. "Yes."

"Who!" Anakin leaned in, his anger forgotten in the tidal wave of anticipation sweeping over his hunched body.

"My master."

All of the Jedi's suspicion of the Sith returned in full. "Liar!" he spat.

In light of the situation, Palpatine wanted to release his Sith Lightning on the boy, but he withheld his displeasure. He was not strong enough yet. "Anakin, I have no choice but to tell you the truth! You have me at a distinct disadvantage. His name was Darth Plagueis, capable of reversing the very flow of decay."

Anakin struggled to hold in his question. He managed for perhaps ten seconds before it burst from his lips. "Could he save someone who was sick? Who was dying?"

As Palpatine studied him, his tired mind finally realized: _Padme Amidala_. _This is my chance. Do not fail. _"I saw him bring back beings from among the dead. He was powerful indeed, and he taught me almost everything he knew."

"Almost?" Anakin latched onto the word.

"…he was…prematurely killed…before he could pass the entirety of his knowledge on." _I was younger and still drunk on my power. We all make mistakes. _It was only a short time after the murder that Palpatine had realized the depths of Plagueis' guarded secrets.

"And, do you know enough? Could you do it?" Anakin was nearly cutting him off with his eagerness. Palpatine was pleased by such consuming desire, such selfish hopes, but an issue still remained in the room.

"A pointless question if you intend on turning me over to the Jedi, Anakin, but I am close to completing my studies of Plagueis' manipulations."

"That's not what I asked! Could you do it? Could you save someone from dying?"

How terribly he wished to gaze into Anakin's eyes and promise: _Yes, I can save her. I can save everyone you hold dear. Just take the dark side as your ally, and I will give you anything. _And the cursed serum forced from his lips instead: "I do not know."

Because, he did not. He did not yet know enough, and that disturbed him.

Anakin sank back on his heels in disbelief. "You don't know?"

"But with your help, I believe we can find the answers, Anakin, and soon!"

The Jedi recoiled, then surged forward and grasped Palpatine's arms. "I can't help you! You're evil!"

Palpatine paid no heed to the vice grip. "Morality is a luxury of the privileged, Anakin. Can you afford to pass this chance by? Think of all that is at stake. Think of the dying you might have saved. Think of the dying you _could still_ save. Are they unworthy of your best efforts? Are you unwilling to risk everything for what you truly love?" His words went deep, and he knew the boy was in pain. The pain of new birth, perhaps? Too soon to tell.

Anakin flinched as though physically struck, both hands flexing. Palpatine winced. "I am willing! I would do anything for h – I would do almost anything, but what you are suggesting would mean turning on the Jedi. Going back on everything I am."

"You are no mediocre Jedi." And he meant every word.

His words were a final condemnation, for at that moment, a large circular portion of the wall just above and to the right exploded inward, and SAR troopers were suddenly dropping down through the hole, guns up and footing firm as they landed.

The room became host to a cacophony of sounds.

"Put your hands in the air!"

"Riley! We've got the assassin!"

"It's a…Jedi?"

"That's impossible!"

"Quiet, Crik!"

One trooper pulled Anakin roughly away from the Chancellor, pushing him almost to the floor. "Put your hands high, Jedi," he barked through the helmet. "You've had enough fun!"

Anakin was indignant at this treatment, surging to his feet and advancing on the trooper. "Wait…I'm not. He's –" He stopped when the gun leveled on his chest, ill at ease without his lightsaber. "Hold on! It isn't like that!"

The trooper scoffed and never lowered the gun. "Whatever. It doesn't look good, kid. Move away from the Chancellor. Slowly now."

Another trooper activated his comlink as Anakin backed up. "We have located Sistros. Sistros is alive. Prepare transport on the south side. Over."

One trooper trained his floodlight on the Jedi and nearly dropped it in surprise. "Hey, isn't that General Skywalker? The Jedi? What's he doing here?"

The closest trooper appeared to be the commander, pointing at the questioning underling. "Don't know, don't care. Our concern is the Chancellor. Let's get him out to safety, and put this lousy rat under arrest. Moat, call in for some regulars. Jedi, turn around and get down on the floor, careful now."

Anakin huffed angrily and resumed his step forward. "You don't understand! I'm not –"

"Hey! Get down now! Down! Down!" The commander shouted , and the others moved in close, training their guns on his chest and preparing to open fire. Men shouted. Radios squawked. Anakin hesitated for a moment.

In that dangerous moment, time seemed to stop, and from his place on the floor, Palpatine's sluggish brain became crystal clear. Before him hovered a golden chance, a chance to remove all the problems of the night in one fell swoop. A chance to cover his back and fall back into the shadows, unnoticed and controlling. Granted, his search for a new apprentice would take time and effort, but to hold his silence…would mean the death of the Chosen One, the death of the one that might reveal him to his enemies, the one that might undo the Sith as Plagueis had feared. Here was his chance to undo Anakin Skywalker, golden Jedi. Here was the moment in which to play it safe and guarantee the future of his Order. He need only be mute.

But here also was the chance to throw his plans into chaos, for he too had chosen Anakin Skywalker, and he did not choose lightly. Skywalker would become a great Sith, more powerful perhaps than even Sidious. They could rule in peace and power, cleansing the worlds of Jedi and corrupt politician alike. He would at last control the galaxy, the ambition of every Sith. The goal of every dark mind would be his with the aid of this petulant and powerful man. He would have an apprentice to rival all others, a steel vessel in which to pour all the power of the Dark Side. He would have a servant to carry out his every bidding, a confident with which to share his darkest dreams. He need only call out.

He chose his future with all the confidence of his power and without regret.

"Halt at once!"

While the other troops kept their small but deadly blasters trained on Skywalker, the commander turned sharply on his heel. "Sir?" he asked as he stepped forward, stretching out an arm when he saw Palpatine attempting to drag himself closer. "Stay down, sir, he's dangerous!"

_Not like I will be if you do not cease. _Palpatine gritted his teeth. "Do not harm him! He is not the assassin!" Behind them all, Anakin was standing stock still, his fear transforming to open confusion. Palpatine knew why. _He expected me to have him killed. Hah, you only wish you could be such a threat. Well, not to me._

The commander had stopped just short of grabbing the Chancellor. His helmet masked his face, but his skepticism was obvious. "Your Excellency, are you sure? He was threatening you. Are you all right?"

Palpatine could not stop his frustration from showing. "A disagreement of sorts. I hope we have come to an understanding, but either way, you will not harm him, Commander. That is a direct order from your Supreme Chancellor."

The SAR leader stiffened and saluted. "Yes, sir. At ease, men," he said to the others, who only slowly lowered their guns from the Jedi and re-holstered them. Anakin began breathing again when the commander turned back to Palpatine, all business. "We need to get both of you out then."

The voice that came from behind was unexpected, subdued, defeated. "He needs the evac board…he can't walk…" Anakin explained. "He was hurt in the…collapse."

The commander nodded and spoke in his helmet. "Backboard for Sistros. I repeat, backboard for Sistros." Soon a long evac board was lowered from above, a new trooper riding on it. After the commander ran his medical scanner over the Chancellor, three troopers very carefully loaded Palpatine onto the stretcher, tying him in securely and motioning it up once again. The others led Anakin to the cable they had entered by, and soon the entire party was leaving the half-collapsed chamber. The building had mostly stabilized, but occasional chunks still dropped from above, creating a tense climb.

From the small hole the troopers had exploded into the chamber, they moved down an overturned hallway, stepping over the smashed statues of actors and the spilled trays of culinary delights. Only a few bodies remained under the glowing emergency lights, prompting Palpatine to expect that most had been evacuated in time from the building, likely during the fight between Sly Moore and himself.

The troopers had a small transport waiting at the end of the hall, which was open to the night air. From his place on the stretcher, Palpatine spotted dozens of Holonet droids and speeders buzzing around the Opera House, straining for a glimpse of the unfolding drama. Vultures, the lot of them. He would find a better use for the Holonet soon. One small droid found the small party in its lights and scurried closer. Soon it was circling in excitement, attracting a small contingent of others.

As the small transport thrummed its way up to the waiting medi-transports, Anakin moved to the Chancellor's side. The night air was alive with shouting and alarms. "You saved me again," Anakin spoke so that Palpatine could barely hear him, much less the others. "Why?"

For once, Palpatine did not fight the serum. He turned his head to regard the hovering Jedi and simply said. "It was not your destiny. You are meant for greater things."

Anakin bowed his head, his eyes almost closing. "I…can't just forget what you've told me tonight. I can't forget what you've done all these years. I should just turn you in to the Jedi. But I can't forget this either. And even if all these years have been lies, I can't forget what you were to me…" He was avoiding something, and Palpatine knew exactly what.

_He needs me. To help her._

"Anakin…" His voice was old, weakened and choked by the dust in his lungs. He hardly had to work at it. Skywalker opened his eyes wide, shoulders stiff with fear and uncertainty, but with his sudden rage gone, he waited with the respect instilled in him from the years past. "Anakin…There is much we could accomplish together. So much we could achieve. You are frightened, and I will not blame you for that, yet to remain on the fence indefinitely will only destroy all you hold dear. You must do as you feel is right. But I hope you will see clearly before it is too late. For _all _of us."

Anakin held his gaze for several seconds, conflicted, torn. "This is not over," he finally whispered before staring down at the floor of the transport.

_Certainly not, my boy._

They said nothing more in the trip up to the former platform of the Opera House. Medical teams were everywhere, treating dozens of senators and hundreds of important dignitaries. The interns and staff members were milling about their respective leaders, wringing their hands and tentacles in helpless worry. When the Chancellor's transport landed, the troopers immediately leapt down to clear a large circle, aggressively shoving the slower reporters out their path. Every recorder was starting to turn as rumors of the Chancellor's survival grew widespread.

Palpatine held his silence as they unloaded him from the small SAR ship and began moving him toward a state-of-the-art medical transport. To his right, he could see the distraught lover of Romeo Treblanc sobbing into the shoulder of a nervous aide – to his left, a single broken Mon Calamari and perhaps the stage's sole survivor of the tragic night. He forced his tired mind away from the pain surrounding him to ponder his next move, even as he spotted Sate Pestage pushing through the troopers, flashing his ID badge to the soldiers with impunity.

The slightly older man reached his side with impressive speed, stretching out a hand to touch Palpatine's arm and gently take hold. Normally, Palpatine would have shrugged him away, but genuine concern blossomed in the dark eyes, and he wondered at this. In truth, he had done little to gain such loyalty from this man, but Pestage had latched onto him from the beginning with all the intensity of a Nubian zalaaca. Something Sidious did not fully understand, but he trusted it. Even now, as he probed with the returning Force, there was no deceit in Pestage, only an angry and jealous protectiveness.

Was the man nearly crying? "Excellency," Pestage choked out, "I tried to tell them you are in no condition to speak with them, but they are impossible!"

His mind foggy, Palpatine saw them before he understood his servant. Jedi. A substantial number of them. Striding firmly across the platform. Focused on him.

_How delightful._

**If presidents get code names, so does Palpatine. And I have returned from a long vacation of no internet . Who would have thought Sith get addicted to such trivial things? And wow, 6 fine reviews on my last chapter! Enjoy another extra long one in thanks. As the Force returns to him, Palpatine is finding it a little easier to work around the serum, but it's still hijacking him now and then. Now in the last chapter, for anyone wondering about Palpatine being a true Sith, keep in mind that different definitions of "care" may have been envisioned by Anakin and Palpatine in their discussion. Nothing is ever too straightforward when you put Jedi and Sith together to play. Read and review! Let me know what you think! :)**


	12. The Cavalry Has Arrived

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"Relations with the Chancellor's Office are…difficult. I feel he has lost his trust in the Jedi; I have certainly lost my trust in him." – Mace Windu, _ROTS novelization_

Chapter Twelve

Obi-Wan could not describe the relief he felt upon seeing Anakin's dusty and bruised and _alive _face. His former Padawan stood at the side of the supine Chancellor, twisting his hands together and staring into the ground as though he would burn through it. Even from this great distance, the Jedi Master could feel a disturbing amount of fear and anger rolling from Anakin's aura. Similar to his own heart-stopping experience in the Jedi Archives and yet different, the emotions were wild and untamed. Something very personal had happened to Anakin. But what?

As if reading his bewilderment, Mace Windu leaned in as they walked and muttered just below the hearing of the following Jedi knights, "It's a miracle the Chancellor and Skywalker survived. The stabilizers only just managed to stop an entire collapse, and that only thanks to the way the Opera House fell. The odds were astronomical. I can hardly believe it."

"Master Windu," Obi-Wan barely took his eyes off the pair before them. "This whole incident has me greatly disturbed. The things I felt tonight, well frankly, I've not felt since fighting the Sith who killed Qui-Gon."

On his other side stalked the tall Zabrak Master Agen Kolar, one of the dwindling number of high council members still on Coruscant. He beckoned at himself and Mace. "We talked before you arrived from the archives, and we came to the same conclusion. There is no question between us of the Sith's involvement."

"I can only imagine this Sidious attempted to kill the Chancellor or Skywalker," Windu added. "This could have been nothing less than an inside job, judging by the level and manner of destruction. Perhaps a follow-up to the last failed attempt. Or perhaps we pushed him into this." After all, that had been their goal since finding the tracks that led to 500 Republica.

"I agree. There is more to this than a mere assassination attempt," Obi-Wan knew it without doubt. "But now the question is, what happened to the Sith Lord if he was indeed the one behind this attack?"

Windu's eyes darkened and he nearly growled, "We can only hope he was destroyed in the process."

Obi-Wan shot a sharp look at his companion. The words were tinged in poison, dripping with a bleak anger that never should have belonged to a Jedi. He thought back and recalled the disturbing conversations just a few weeks prior, of Mace's fierce dedication to ending the conflict by any means necessary, even if it meant – and Obi-Wan shuddered – treason.

Yoda had disagreed, and now Obi-Wan wished for the old sage's presence more than ever. The tiny Jedi had always been able to calm Mace down, to talk away the darkness that was never far from the Master of Vaapad. But Yoda was currently wrapping up his business on Kashyyyk for the return to Coruscant, and Obi-Wan was left to manage on his own. Kolar was no real help; he could be as headstrong as Mace.

The Negotiator settled for a noncommittal answer. "I suspect we'll have the truth before long," he finally replied, unwilling to spark the glowing fire that was Mace Windu.

Kolar grumbled, "We would have had the truth long ago if our hands were not so tied by _politics_." Obi-Wan nearly laughed with relief that someone else felt as he did about such unsavory topics. Mace never cracked a smile, eyes fixed on the scene spreading out before them.

As the group of Jedi drew nearer, Obi-Wan let out a long breath as he determined that Anakin was not seriously harmed. His lightsaber was another matter: nowhere to be seen. _Anakin, Anakin…_ He held one shoulder stiffly and his eyes were half-shut, but Obi-Wan's dearest friend was still standing.

The same could not be said for the leader of the free worlds. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine lay on his back on the evac board, and Obi-Wan had never seen him looking so haggard, not even after the Grievous kidnapping. As his aide Sate Pestage hovered over him, he quietly talked. His face bore long streaks of bloody scratches and dark bruising. His once immaculate robes were tattered and soaking wet, much like Anakin's Jedi robes. How on Tatooine had they gotten drenched?

Yet now also, for the first time since he had stopped focusing on Anakin, he sensed a new great darkness surrounding the Chancellor, almost seeping into him, or was it seeping out? The darkness made the situation too hard to clarify. Palpatine's Force presence was what it always had been to Obi-Wan. Nothing. An empty space in the Force, like a blind, mute, and deaf man. Only now the slowly dissipating darkness surrounded him. He looked half-dead, and Obi-Wan wondered, what had the Sith done? What had happened in there?

But most importantly, what had happened to Anakin?

xxxxxxxxx

Mace Windu was stunned. In all his years of studying the shatterpoints and fault lines of the Force, the vision that greeted him was unprecedented. The strong lines that had so closely bound Anakin Skywalker and Chancellor Palpatine were now thin and jagged, blazing red and oozing a black ink-like substance into the Force around them. The connection was straining to hold together, nearly at the snapping moment.

He wondered how this came to pass, and the darker part of him wondered if it could not be helped along in its dissolution. Mace shook himself back to his senses. He did not yet understand these ominous lines, and to intervene without understanding was to invite calamity. One simply did not manipulate the Force lines around them like a youngling moving blocks. The Force was delicate, and it demanded understanding and respect.

Mace Windu wondered, not for the first time, how the other Jedi saw this same scene. His "gift" left him with a unique view that was hard to explain to his comrades. Yoda came the closest to comprehension, but even he could not discern shatterpoints. How did Obi-Wan see Skywalker and the Chancellor? How did Kolar? How could Mace provide evidence for his fears when the evidence was invisible to others?

He straightened to his fullest height when the party arrived on the scene, forcing the frustration away, turning to the Jedi Knights behind him and instructing that they keep watch. Then he, Obi-Wan, and Kolar approached the Chancellor's party.

"Supreme Chancellor," he inclined his head – formal, cool, careful. "We are relieved to see you unharmed."

A fleet smile crossed Palpatine's face, or was it a grimace? Hard to tell through the blood. "Relatively unharmed, Master Windu. But alive." He barked a sharp cough and waved his hand at Pestage, who had tried to help him straighten. "Mostly."

"That is the important thing," Obi-Wan stepped up now and bowed slightly.

Palpatine turned half-glazed eyes on the younger master and murmured, "You have no idea." At Obi-Wan's open confusion, Palpatine's gaze cleared and he hastily added, "The devastation was tremendous, the loss of lives, entirely regrettable, but if ever the Force was with the Republic, it was tonight." Mace lifted an eyebrow; it had been long since he had seen the Chancellor stumble in a conversation. Within the last few months, he could count the number of times on one hand.

Beside him, the Chosen One shifted on his feet. In the Force, the lines flashed bright red, pulsing from Skywalker toward the Chancellor. Mace struggled to remain focused on the physical faces in the conversation.

"We greatly desire to learn what happened here, Chancellor," Kolar, always the one to get down to business, had come up on the other side of Palpatine's stretcher. The Chancellor studied him for a long moment, mouth working.

"I, also, greatly desire clarity for this night. Thanks to Anakin, I believe we may have that truth before long, Master Kolar. He has a definite proclivity for _saving_ lives," and here the mutually dusty and bloody men regarded each other. Mace watched in amazement as the connecting lines briefly glowed blue before settling back into red. Something significant was occurring, and he was blind to the meaning. Blind!

The Dark Side choked the air around them all, swirling, obstructing, tricking… Mace struck at it with his mind and only bogged down. He decided on a different tactic and turned to Anakin Skywalker. "How did you manage to do it? How did you stop this attack?" he demanded.

Skywalker's eyes opened wide. The Force trembled around him. "I…I –I can't. I couldn't!" His mouth opened and closed like a drowning man's, and he looked between Palpatine and Mace when he spoke, refusing to even glance back at Obi-Wan. His former mentor stepped closer, concerned.

"Anakin, are you all right? My word, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Obi-Wan stretched out and took the Chosen One's arm, pulling him away from the Chancellor's side and lowering him to the platform. Skywalker dropped without protest, still gasping for air and still trying to speak.

Mace was completely flummoxed at the sight. In the last few weeks, the haughty young Jedi had developed a powerful and confident presence when with the other Jedi, losing his cool only when the Council had denied him mastery. He had fine-tuned an emotional distance that now lay in tatters. He looked like a frightened padawan as he sat on the platform clutching Obi-Wan's arm.

Mace crouched down before the two and leaned in. "Skywalker, I need you to focus. What happened? Was it the Sith Lord?"

Skywalker stared back. "Yes," he said, so soft Mace could barely hear. "Yes, it was the Sith Lord. It was… it was –"

"He was…greatly overcome by the attack tonight," the Chancellor interrupted, almost as quiet as Skywalker, but his words muted the boy as surely as if he had shouted, and Mace swung to his feet and faced him with a look to break stone. The Chancellor stared back with surprising boldness. His pale blue eyes seemed to burn with an inner light, challenging the warrior that towered over him. Beside him, thin and greasy, Pestage bore an identical glare.

"What do you mean?" Kolar asked in the deadly silence that followed.

One of Palpatine's hands twitched. "I mean he was incapacitated early on. He was not able to engage our attacker, although he did manage to hold off several gunmen. I'm sure he will submit a full report if you give him time to recover," and now Mace detected impatience in the Chancellor's face.

"Where the Sith are concerned, there is no time for luxuries like recovery," Mace reminded him coldly, disliking Palpatine's tone. "We need the truth."

Palpatine laughed, actually laughed. "You do," his voice lowered to a strange half-growl. "You really do need the truth." He pointed a shaking finger at Anakin Skywalker. "He has it now, but I am not so certain you deserve it yet, the way you treat him."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet in alarm. "Chancellor, what are you saying? We are Jedi, and we take very good care of our own. Anakin will be all right with us."

"Will he?" Palpatine sneered. "I'm not so sure, Master Kenobi. Look at him cowering before _Master_ Windu. That boy has saved my life, and you treat him like a newly initiated Padawan. He deserves better."

Anakin's head shot up straight to look at Palpatine, and Mace saw the fault lines of the Force flash blue again. What was happening between the two? The anger he soon felt was his own, decidedly non-Jedi-like but belonging entirely to him. Why did these two always bring out the worst of him?

But the Chancellor's intrusion into matters of the Jedi was objectionable. Mace brought some of his anger to bear on the smaller man. "With all due respect, Chancellor – _and then some –_ this is an internal matter. You may hold sway over the High Council's military and political decisions, but you do not have any say in the way we conduct our Order."

Palpatine smiled back at his scowling profile. "Perhaps someone should, Master Windu. All your talk of Sith plots and the Dark Side…This was an assassination attempt on my life, no more, no less. It was taken care of."

Mace felt his dislike for this Chancellor bloom into something darker. Palpatine had played them all early on, swallowing their warnings of the Sith with wide-eyed wonder and following their suggestions with enthusiasm. _Things_ _change_, his own words mocked him. Now the Chancellor was clearly under the influence of the Dark Lord, surrounded by the Dark Side, and no longer heeding the Jedi warnings.

Suddenly, Mace did not care that Palpatine was in danger from the Sith as well. He did not care that the Chancellor might be being manipulated. He was angry to find a blockade at the highest point of government, poking its nose into Jedi business and pronouncing them morally inadequate. Palpatine went too far.

"My lord," he grated out, throwing some of the sarcasm back at the politician, "We Jedi have always been able to access greater knowledge and abilities than the average being." He motioned to Obi-Wan and Kolar. "We all felt the presence of the Sith tonight. You may believe we have conjured some sort of bogeyman to frighten the masses, but we know the Sith is moving. We _will _find him, and we will utterly _destroy _him and his diseased practices."

Time froze. Obi-Wan looked appalled, covering his gaping mouth with one hand; Kolar was amused and trying to smother a smile, not in the least frightened by his aggressive friend. It was a good thing Yoda was elsewhere. Anakin's face had gone completely white.

Palpatine never moved, perfectly still as he lay on his back. The medics around him were speechless, the troopers awkwardly shifting in place, rifles half-lowered as they tried to determine any threat level. But Palpatine still did not move, except for the slightest narrowing of his eyes. Mace waited for a reply, for even a challenge.

He was not prepared for the answer.

"You will try, Master Windu."

The very air crackled, and suddenly Skywalker was surging to his feet at the same time Pestage was stepping between Mace and Palpatine.

"Master!" The boy nearly screamed, shrugging away Obi-Wan and lunging forward to grip Mace's shoulder. He hung on to the Jedi Master with a barely controlled desperation. "Do not blame the Chancellor. He…is only concerned for me. We barely made it out alive. Please don't!"

"Don't what, Skywalker?" Mace frowned. What did Skywalker think he was going to do? Strike down the unarmed, injured, and non-Force-sensitive Supreme Chancellor of the Republic? He was only frustrated with the man's interference, with the man's stubbornness that was dooming Mace's Republic. That did not mean he wanted to take off his head. Not entirely…

Around him the troopers were closing in. One helmet turned toward the Chancellor. "Is there a problem here, Your Excellency?"

Sate Pestage answered instead, "Yes, we need to get the Chancellor to safety. The assassins may use this confusion to try again. Please make certain these Jedi are protected as we leave." His expression said the complete opposite, and Mace was certain he was the object of the man's ire. Palpatine's entire staff treated the Jedi with cold disdain, and Pestage was the worst of them all. Would the troopers be protecting them, or guarding them?

Before the Jedi could object, the medical stretcher was hovering away, and troops were moving between them and the Chancellor, obscuring him from their view. Red mixed with the white as Palpatine's personal guard arrived. He would be taken to the Senate medical centers, where the finest treatment awaited him. Once upon a time, Mace thought wistfully, chancellors and politicians preferred the Jedi facilities. Once upon a time, there was trust between them all…

Mace shook the dark musings away and returned to business. Anakin Skywalker, on the other hand, would have the medical finesse of the Jedi. And while there, they could get to the bottom of this. Nothing felt right, and in these dark days, that was saying something.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Though he was a perfect specimen of calm control on the outside, Mas Amedda shook inside as his borrowed speeder approached the platform. The smoke rising from the place where the Opera House once stood and the small fires that littered the crowded platform turned his stomach. Was the Chancellor even alive anymore? Were all his hopes for an uncorrupted and efficient government down some dark alley of Coruscant?

He parked the speeder hurriedly, ignoring the outraged cries of a security droid, and strode quickly across the platform, forcing himself to slow down. No good would come of seeing the Speaker of the Senate panicking like a young tadpole and running pell-mell into this disaster.

Just ahead and to the right, he could see a small body of Jedi conferring together, their sharp eyes noticing him instantly. He recognized General Kenobi, General Skywalker, and Mace Windu among them, and he nodded once. They ignored him. _Typical Jedi, above common decency._

At last he caught sight of the signature bright red robes of Palpatine's guards, bunched around a large medical transport. He pushed through their outer ranks with a low warning growl, and they parted without protest.

Amedda forgot his complaints when he spotted his leader through the gaps in the white clothed medics. "Excellency!" he called, and began to move in. One close emergency trooper shoved him back with his blaster half-raised. "Fool! I am the Speaker of the Senate. Let me pass!"

"Let him pass, soldier," Sate Pestage was suddenly before him, and the trooper immediately retreated. Together they moved back to the Chancellor, and Amedda stopped at the side of the stretcher and gazed down, startled at the copious amounts of blood. Palpatine's eyes were tightly shut, and his teeth were gritted. Amedda assumed it was from the pain.

"Are you all right, sir?" he rumbled. Pestage crowded him, watching Amedda closely with his dark and beady eyes.

Palpatine did not look at him. "Lord Speaker?"

"Yes, Excellency. I was with Senator Dmiddo. I feared the worst, when I saw that the Opera House had been … when I saw the explosions, I thought you were dead!"

Two slivers of pale blue appeared and focused on him. "An unforeseen development and a deviation from our plans, my friend," Palpatine's hands rose slightly in a small wave, as though he were sitting at his desk instead of lying on a medical stretcher, being poked and prodded by several medics. "Unfortunate timing for all of us, potentially. We must act quickly if we are to maintain momentum. I find myself unsuitable for conversation, Mas."

"I do not understand."

Palpatine's gaze drifted toward the Jedi bunched a short distance away, and he pressed his thin lips together tightly, angrily, before replying, "I mean, I shall need to keep my schedule very carefully for a time. But right now, I need you to muster several of our strongest supporters, seven or eight should do."

"Senators?" Amedda was briefly confused. What good was a fear-stricken Senate in this situation?

Palpatine lost his ever-present outward cool. "No, interns!" He snapped. The look on the Chagrian's face was of polite disbelief. "Of course, senators! Strong supporters, Mas, and make sure you pick ones that view the Jedi unfavorably. If a scene is to be made, I want reliable witnesses."

"A scene?" Amedda began to understand, feeling a cold block of ice forming in his chest. This could be bad.

"Bring them to the medical facility. I want them there as much as possible, and always when the Jedi are present."

Amedda hesitated to acknowledge the feeling of fear that threatened him, the feeling of losing control. "Witnesses? My lord, do you think the Jedi have discovered you?" If that were true, they would be hard-pressed indeed.

"One, and perhaps more soon. I cannot be certain. Our plans to turn this Republic around are in grave danger, Mas," the Chancellor reached out and pulled Amedda closer, putting the Chagrian between himself and the distant group of Jedi. "If the Jedi attempt to take me, we can make them the aggressors only if we involve the Senate. I am not in peak condition to repel their attacks personally."

"No, indeed, my lord." But he was alive, and that meant they had a fighting chance.

"Mas, the safety of our worlds is in your hands. Stall the Jedi as long as you can, and stall the Senate from making any impulsive decisions." Palpatine sighed softly. "I'm not certain how long this setback may last. Can you do it?"

"As always, sir." And he could. His skills with the most obscure procedural rules and etiquette were legendary. He could hold back a tide of unruly and corrupt senators easily enough.

Palpatine grunted and rested back against the medical stretcher as the medics began to hover it into the roomy transport, apparently satisfied with Amedda's assurance. His eyes closed once again, and he seemed almost in a trance as the medics began latching down his bed for takeoff. Amedda, unsure if he had been dismissed, followed his Chancellor onto the transport. Pestage followed closely on his heels.

"How long will it take to reset the bones?" Palpatine suddenly asked, sounding distracted as he snagged a passing medic, clutching the white sleeve in a claw-like hand and leaving a small smear of blood.

The young man looked like a Jawa in the headlights of an onrushing speeder. "Um…I'm not certain, my lord. Your legs have not been entirely scanned yet, but rest assured, the Bacta tanks do the best jo –"

"No. No bacta tanks. Casts only. I need to be aware."

"I understand sir, but those will take much longer, as they are less concentrated doses."

"And so they will do." He left no room for argument, and the medic, having completed his duties, fled the room, leaving only the two humans and the Chagrian.

Amedda saw Pestage lean in close and whisper, "Why will you not take the tank, my lord? We can remove you to a secure location if you are concerned with the Jedi…"

Palpatine shook his head. "No, Sate, no. I need to be able to speak with him."

"Who?" Amedda blurted without thinking.

Palpatine answered without hesitation, which greatly startled the Speaker. Usually he was not privy to the specifics of the Chancellor's alternate plans. Usually, he was brushed away or given a stern look. Today produced neither result. "Anakin Skywalker. He is the key to our future."

"Sir, you are the key for us. I cannot say how relieved I am that you were not killed," Pestage was sickening, Amedda thought again as he watched the fanatical gleam in the human's eyes. The man was a brownnoser and a slimy underhanded gangster. Amedda could not be convinced that Pestage's concern for the Chancellor was authentic, but his disdain derailed when he realized that Palpatine was speaking once again.

"Many others were killed however, all thanks to the betrayal of Sly Moore. I want a count of our losses as soon as is feasible." He turned thoughtful. "I want you to eliminate her contacts, Sate, every individual she may have swayed to her side. I want no more surprises."

"A purge," Pestage was practically purring with delight. Amedda felt his lethorns twist in disgust. A purge might be necessary, but who could enjoy such a thing? Pestage kept nodding. "Yes, that should be easy enough."

"Well, do it quietly, at any rate," Palpatine appeared to be rallying his strength with each passing moment. "Also, spread the news that it was a Force user. Don't say anything about Sly Moore. We will let the Jedi stand alone on that report. Say instead, something that moved like a Jedi, fought like a Jedi. The Senate will draw its own conclusions. Can you do that quickly?"

"Definitely. I work well with rumors," Pestage affirmed, and Amedda snorted quietly. Palpatine's eyes shifted back to him, and for the first time since his work with the Chancellor began, Amedda felt open curiosity and a little suspicion in that gaze. Suspicion that would be better placed on this slimeball beside him, but for some reason, Pestage had top billing with Palpatine.

Well, Amedda would show both of them what true loyalty was. He had this one chance to rebuild the Republic, and might he be condemned to the depths of Kamino if he did not succeed. No Jedi plot would hold them back. That he promised himself as the medical transport rose and sped toward the Galactic Senate Medcenter.

**So the Jedi make an appearance at last and know something is up. They are so close to finding out, but that Anakin Skywalker has to go off and be his usual indecisive self. An indecisive Chosen One, how ironic…Ahem, sorry. What will happen when they meet again? And will Anakin choose a side or try to juggle it all? **

**Apologies for the delay. These longer chapters take longer to form up. To be honest, what would my readers prefer: shorter chapters and faster updates, or longer chapters and slightly slower updates? **

**Oh, and I do have a new one-shot up, called "At the Present Time," featuring Palpatine and Obi-Wan. Feel free to check it out. **


	13. Sacrifices Are Never Easy

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"He's loyal to _people_, not to principles." – Obi-Wan Kenobi, about Anakin Skywalker _(ROTS novelization)_

Chapter Thirteen

Anakin could not bring himself to speak to Obi-Wan or the other Jedi on his return to the Temple. The Jedi gunship cruised through the air with a low rumble, sailing effortlessly over the crowds of curious bystanders and making straight for the Temple. He still felt as though the entire evening were a dream, separate from his real world. Palpatine the Sith Lord belonged nowhere in his neat organization of life, but there he was, a glaring aberration and Anakin's worst nightmare.

Not because he was a Sith Lord, which strangely was the least of Anakin's worries, but because a Sith Lord might hold the key to saving Padme…a Sith Lord that his Jedi companions would show little hesitation in destroying. Mace Windu had proven that with his heated words to Palpatine, words to the very Sith Lord he was promising to annihilate. Anakin coughed out an angry laugh, causing Obi-Wan to glance at him worriedly. Anakin looked away and buried further into the padded seat, fingers clutching at the worn cloth.

Palpatine must be powerful to hide in plain sight like he had for years. Only through a fluke betrayal of one of his servants had he been revealed to Anakin. Surely a man with the power to conceal himself from hundreds of Jedi, to step into the very council chambers without fear of discovery – surely he was strong enough to ensure a simple pregnancy.

_I don't know, _Palpatine had told him when Anakin demanded an answer. How could he not know? Did he not have the ability and therefore lied? Anakin had felt no lie in the answer; in fact, he had felt an unusual amount of frustration and uncertainty. Was Palpatine perhaps reluctant to share such power with a Jedi?

Maybe they could strike a deal, Anakin wondered. After all, he held the Sith's life in his hands. All it would take would be a word or two with Master Windu or Obi-Wan, and Palpatine's career would be cut short, lightsaber-wise. Maybe he _could_ control the Sith Lord…

The thought was disturbing, more so than it should have been. Anakin should be hurrying to turn Palpatine over to the Jedi. To hesitate now was to prolong the clone wars. But to hesitate now was also to prolong Padme's life. And Palpatine's.

Anakin could not deny the emotion that hid in his soul any longer. The sense of betrayal and of being fooled by the man he most admired was painful, ripping at his already tattered heart. Palpatine had been as a father to him since Anakin first met him, always listening, never judging, pushing him to excel but never demanding the impossible. He spoke to him as a man and son, and the loyalty that burned in Anakin was strong because of it.

Perhaps he should check into an insanity ward, Anakin thought gloomily, ignoring the watchful eyes of his former master. Loyalty to the Jedi, loyalty to Palpatine, loyalty to Padme. Well, after Padme, he was not certain who deserved it more. Palpatine had lied about his true beliefs, but then again, he would have been killed if he had been honest. To an extent, Anakin understood that. He stood to lose his place in the Jedi Order if he ever came clean about his secret marriage and his wife's pregnancy.

But a Sith Lord! For most of his life, Sith Lords were the epitome of evil, the dark shadows that killed strong and faithful Jedi. And now he was faced with an old man who cared about him – him, not the prophecy! – and was potentially powerful enough to save Padme.

What had the Jedi given him other than headaches and a dead mother? Anakin felt his scowl growing at the very thought. They lied to him as much as Palpatine did, just in a different way. They lied through omission. They kept the truth from him. The secret and most powerful ways of the Jedi were kept from him because they thought he was dangerous. His blood boiled as he envisioned the Jedi Holocrons deep within the Archives.

But he might not need those if he had Palpatine…

"Anakin? What are you thinking, my friend?" Obi-Wan broke into his thoughts as he slid into the chair next to the young Jedi. "You've said nothing at all since we left the platform. This isn't like you."

"Nothing's like it should be," Anakin spat softly, but the fire was leaving his veins. Sitting here beside Obi-Wan was like sitting beside a tranquil lake on Naboo. His peaceful Force presence soothed the madness of the night. The Jedi may have given him nothing but pain, but Obi-Wan was another matter entirely, and he felt guilty for snapping at his friend. "I'm…I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I didn't have a good night tonight."

Obi-Wan thought he knew what troubled Anakin. "Don't blame yourself for what happened. The Chancellor is alive, and the casualties were surprisingly light from what we can get from the initial estimates. Evidently several eyewitnesses spotted a Jedi distracting the gunmen for several minutes. I'm proud of you, Anakin."

Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. "That means a lot to me, Obi-Wan. I wish… I wish…" _I wish I could tell you what I know without your blasted sense of duty to the Jedi Council. _"I wish I could have done more."

"You did all you could," Obi-Wan assured. "All we need now is an official report and you can take a long break from all this." He waved back in the direction of the Opera House.

Hardly. Anakin was sure no break was in his future for a long time yet. "But I was unconscious for most of the time. Wouldn't it make more sense to ask the Chancellor?" _Let him get himself out of that mess. I need time to decide. _"He told me he was awake for most of it."

"What you saw may be just as important," Obi-Wan shook his head. "Remember, Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is no Jedi." Anakin laughed suddenly, and Obi-Wan started. At the front of the gunship, Mace Windu looked back and scowled. "Really, Anakin. I'm being serious. He's no Jedi, and he's certainly not a soldier. You've probably noticed details that he would never catch."

"Yeah," Anakin nodded, too tired and too wary to argue the point. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, shutting out the low drone of voices and engines alike.

Obi-Wan just would not take the hint. "The Council is very worried, Anakin. We felt something incredibly dark tonight. All of us. Even Master Yoda on Kashyyyk. Did you feel it?"

How could he not? "Of course. I was unconscious, but I still felt it," Anakin shifted on his seat. Discussing this was too close to the truth. He wanted out of the conversation, out of the situation, out of the planet if he could. He wanted nothing more than to find Padme and wrap his arms around her until the worlds returned to normal.

As if that would ever happen. Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin's good shoulder and gently pressed. "Are you all right, truly? Are you feeling sleepy? Should I get Master Kolar?" Agen Kolar had the best healing abilities of the present Jedi, but Anakin instinctively disliked the Zabrak. He was too much like Mace Windu.

"I'll be all right, Obi-Wan," he sighed. "I'm sure the healers back at the Temple will be enough."

"If you're certain," Obi-Wan doubted, then lowered his voice. "Anakin, I was so worried about you. Something told me this darkness was…somehow…involved with you."

Anakin felt his nerves tense up, and he tried for lighthearted sarcasm. "Wow, that's not vague at all, my Master."

"It _is _vague because I can't explain it. I've had the feeling before, like when you found your mother, or when you almost died in that sarlaac pit," Obi-Wan was being Obi-Wan again, straightening up as he tried to dissect his own emotions. Such sterling Jedi character, Anakin admired. Obi-Wan would not hesitate if faced with Anakin's choice. Of course, Obi-Wan would never have gotten married or befriended a politician.

_He is definitely smarter than me. _

The pitch of the engines changed to a high whine as the gunship lowered onto one of the Temple's landing platforms. With Obi-Wan supporting him, Anakin stepped out, shivering as his boots thumped on the platform's surface.

In all his years, the Jedi Temple had held significant meaning. A refuge, a safehouse, a home, a base: comforting, peaceful, inviting, even challenging. Always there for him and unchanging.

Never foreboding. Until today.

Obi-Wan sensed his distress and nudged him. "Do you need assistance before your report?"

Mace Windu arrived at that moment, staring down at the hunched Anakin with ill-concealed suspicion. "Can you walk to the Council Room, Skywalker?"

The sharp and devouring anger of the evening roared back with a vengeance. _How can I trust him if he will not trust me? _Anakin straightened and with narrowed eyes met Windu's gaze. "I can."

Mace nodded. "Then we'll need to have your report as soon as possible. The faster we have information, the faster we can discover the truth of the Sith Lord and his assassins." And without waiting for an answer, he turned and stalked down the long hall into the Temple.

Anakin snarled at him in his mind and shook off Obi-Wan's hands. Then, unaware of the fact, he took off just like the Master he so disliked, striding powerfully, barely holding in the frustration that threatened to seize him.

The Council convened with nearly half its members in attendance. Yoda was absent, busy with the return to Coruscant. Mace Windu, Agen Kolar, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kit Fisto, and Ki-Adi-Mundi's hologram waited for Anakin to speak with varying levels of patience.

Anakin stood in their midst, struggling to form a plausible story in his mind. If he admitted the truth now, the Jedi could expel him for not warning them sooner. If he admitted the truth, Palpatine would be killed. And if he admitted the truth, Padme would be left to die while the Jedi Council still quibbled over refusing to make him a master. When it was put that way, the truth was unappealing, so Anakin searched for an alternative, a delay.

He watched the bright lights of Coruscant's night traffic whipping past the floor-to-ceiling windows, and he could see the distant smoke of the Opera House on the horizon. Where was Padme right now? Fighting for order in the Senate? Entertaining senators? Waiting for him?

"Skywalker." Mace Windu jerked his mind back into the room. "We are waiting for your report."

"Apologies, Masters," he bowed. "I'm finding it hard to focus tonight. I hit my head hard." Ki-Adi-Mundi's hologram shifted, and Anakin spied genuine concern in the transparent eyes. Too bad all the council was not made of Mundis and Kenobis, but that was wishful thinking if ever there was any.

"Try to remember, Anakin," Obi-Wan cajoled. "The faster we get this done, the sooner you can be in the medical wing."

Anakin's defiance began to melt in the face of Obi-Wan's kindness. "Yes, of course. I went to the Opera House this evening at the Chancellor's request. The opera was nearing its end when several gun-wielding assassins attempted to shoot into the Chancellor's box. I deflected the bolts for several minutes, but I was knocked unconscious by a large explosion from the entry hall. We were attempting to leave the box…" he hesitated. "I don't remember much of anything else until the clone troopers came in to rescue us."

"Assassins?" Master Kolar questioned. "Are you certain they weren't bounty hunters acting together?"

Anakin shook his head. "Too uniform for bounty hunters. They worked as a team, like they've been together for a long time. They were all dressed nearly the same, black, visual disruptors, I think."

"How many?" Mace Windu demanded, and Anakin frowned.

"At least half a dozen. Probably more. They'd fought Jedi before, too. They were expanding their range of fire the entire time."

"Maladians, perhaps," Ki-Adi-Mundi reflected. "The description matches their dress and manners."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, and turned back to Anakin. "And did you get any sense of who was behind this attack? We've come to the conclusion that it was an inside job."

"I…" Anakin froze. "I…can't remember."

Mace leaned forward. "You mean you knew at one point and forgot?" His tone was incredulous and still reeking of suspicion.

Anakin rankled. "I mean I got hit in the head," Angry now, he only tossed the end out as an insult. "Master."

Obi-Wan looked shocked. "Anakin, we understand that you were injured. Perhaps – "

"No!" Anakin spun to look at him. "You obviously don't understand. Anything, if we really want to get into this. I tried, I did, and all I get is interrogation! I don't know what to say."

Master Agen Kolar raised his hands. "We might be able to help with that. Master Windu and I know a perfectly safe Force Technique of memory recall. If you relax, we can bring the forgotten back, I'm sure of it…Skywalker…?"

Anakin had gone rigid with fear. Memory recall would bring more than Palpatine's attempted assassin to light. They would know Palpatine was the Sith Lord! Force! They would know about _Padme_! He tried to speak and found his voice strangled by the black dragon that was winding itself around his throat.

"Skywalker," Mace sat up straight in his chair. "Will you submit to the memory recall? This is the best way."

Obi-Wan turned to him. "I don't think that's the – "

Anakin exploded. "No! I won't do it! That's an invasion of my privacy and I refuse!"

Mace set his jaw. "Privacy is a commodity in these times, Skywalker. There is greater danger than any embarrassing memories you might have."

But all Anakin heard was Palpatine's words: _Morality is a luxury of the privileged, Anakin._ And he nearly laughed in his pained disbelief. Palpatine was at least brave enough to admit to his beliefs, to live them out. The Jedi only clung to principles as needed. Privacy did not matter if the Jedi needed to expose it. Loyalty did not matter so long as the Jedi needed to expel. Life did not matter when the Jedi needed to kill.

"I can't believe this," he fumed, clenching his fists as the tears again hovered at the edge of his vision. "You sound desperate! I won't let you invade my mind like I'm a common criminal! I am a Jedi Knight, and I demand to be treated like one!"

"Anakin Skywalker," Kit Fisto said quietly, "As you are a Jedi Knight, you know that we must all sacrifice for the greater good."

_I will not sacrifice my friends and family for your "greater good," _Anakin wanted to growl at him, but he could not. Instead, he ground out, "You ask too much."

As he spun on his heel to leave, Mace Windu stood up. "Skywalker! You must remain here. We are not finished."

Anakin stopped and glanced back. "No, Master," he said tightly, barely holding on to his temper. "I have told you all I can. This conversation is over." And he pulled the distaste and anger he felt for the Jedi over his mind, and it gave him the strength to stride out of the Council Room. It even gave him the strength not to look back.

"Skywalker!"

He would gather some items, finish his medical business here, and find Padme. Padme would make everything clear.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"This is disastrous," Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke into the dead silence of the room, his digital voice crackling with space distortion.

Obi-Wan had to agree. The Council had no way of understanding Anakin like he did. Anakin could not be pushed into obeying the dictates of the Jedi. He had to be shown and taught. Loyalty was a two-way street, and the Jedi Council had just driven down the wrong lane, colliding straight into his headstrong old padawan.

The Council could have understood him if they tried, a sad voice told him, and Obi-Wan shook the rebellious thought away. Mace Windu could not understand the life Anakin led, the love and fear and joy that the Chosen One felt daily. Mace Windu was the perfect Jedi: deadly, calm, and dutiful.

Most of the worlds would have applied those words to Obi-Wan as well, but tonight he only felt like a failure. It got worse when Mace started thinking again.

"What is the boy hiding?"

The other Jedi masters swiveled toward the dark-skinned Master. "What do you mean?" Kit Fisto asked.

"I sensed no normal aversion to the idea. Skywalker had something he didn't want to share. Something about tonight. Unnatural darkness surrounds him."

While the other masters began to nod along, Obi-Wan stood up. "I disagree, respectfully. Anakin has nothing to hide, nothing of note. He simply values his privacy. It's not a typical Jedi trait, but Anakin is not your typical Jedi. You all know this."

Kit Fisto grinned. "I'll say. Did you see that way that boy stormed out of here? I didn't think he had it in him." He received scowls from around the room and shrugged. "It's true."

"Unfortunately, yes, it's true. His disobedience is becoming a real issue. It makes him too unpredictable," Ki-Adi-Mundi continued. "I agree with Master Windu. He is hiding something, and it may be critical. But what can we do? To threaten the boy with expulsion would be to push him further away."

_Thank you_, Obi-Wan thought and said aloud, "You can't force Anakin to do anything."

"No…" Agen Kolar grumbled. "The Chosen One must take his own path, but we can certainly follow that path more closely than we have in the past."

"What? You mean spy on him?" Obi-Wan was flummoxed.

"Not spy, but shadow. Make sure that he is not in worse trouble than we think. If we know what's going on, then we can better make our own decisions. I too think he's hiding what he knows." Kolar glanced at each master in turn, and saw that all but Obi-Wan were in agreement.

Obi-Wan was certainly not. "I do not think this is a good idea," he cautioned. "Bad enough that we tried to get Anakin to spy on the Chancellor, but spying on Anakin? If he finds out, this will be a far worse betrayal than anything previous. He is loyal to his friends. We will not be his friends if we do this."

"We are not true friends if we do _not_ do this," Ki-Adi-Mundi argued back. "And I believe the best Jedi for this mission is you, Master Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan could hardly speak. "Me? You're asking me to spy on Anakin?" _This is madness! Anakin will not stand for this! He'll never trust them again. He'll never trust _me _again. _The thought was heavy enough to crush him.

"What do you think, Master Kenobi?" Kit Fisto asked, perfectly serious now.

Obi-Wan felt an unusual strain of cold anger run through his body, and for a moment, the perfect Jedi indulged it. "I think I'm beginning to understand why Anakin responded as he did."

"You will not do it?" Mace stiffened.

A moment of coldness was all Obi-Wan allowed himself. He knew he would regret this, but he smashed the sadness down and shook his head. "If it is the will of the Council, I will…keep an eye…on my old padawan." One at a time, the Masters offered their assent.

Mace never missed a beat. "I sensed in him a desire to leave the Temple tonight. I think it is crucial that you follow him as soon as possible. We have to understand why he will not talk. And tomorrow we will speak with the Supreme Chancellor. Perhaps he will also shed some light on this situation."

"May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi," Ki-Adi-Mundi crackled through his comm. His hologram fuzzed up and went out, and the other Jedi began to pick themselves up and exit, heads down, minds full. No one met Obi-Wan's searching gaze. Mace crossed over to the large circular window and stared out into the blurred traffic. Obi-Wan sat in his chair for a long moment as he dreaded his "mission" and resigned himself to the inevitable.

Mace's broad back was fully to Obi-Wan, but he spoke again once the other Jedi had left. "I am from Korun, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan looked up and waited. Nothing. "Yes, Master Windu, I was aware."

Another long pause filled the moment. "I came to the Jedi at six months old. Hardly much time to develop a personality outside the Jedi Temple."

Obi-Wan was surprised. He never would have guessed that Mace Windu would dwell on such thoughts. Of course, he never would have guessed that Anakin would defy the Council, either. That showed how much he knew, he thought, blackly amused. When Mace turned and appeared to be looking for confirmation, Obi-Wan shrugged. "Most Jedi begin in like manner. I too was young."

"Yet you can look at Anakin Skywalker and make sense of the boy."

Obi-Wan laughed, a startlingly harsh sound. "Most of the time. He did have a very different upbringing from ours."

Mace quirked a small smile. "Yes. To think I supported his training at first…the Chosen One…what was I thinking?"

Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt. "I have not been the best teacher, I'm afraid, Master Windu."

"No, Obi-Wan. You are a great master, and no other could have taken your place. Skywalker will make his own decisions. Circumstances shape us, but we make the final choices on our own."

Silence fell between them again as Mace turned back to the window. The hall was filled with shadows of every sort. "I returned to my homeworld when I was a young Jedi," Mace's voice was softer now, hardly the stern commanding boom of the Jedi Master that younglings and Knights feared. "While there, I discovered the worldview of my people."

Unseen, Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "Worldview?"

"Honor, duty, family, and herd. The four pillars of civilization," Mace explained, still distant and muted. "Honor to yourself, truth and fearlessness and love without hesitation. Above that is duty to those around you. Family trumps that, Obi-Wan. Family is very important to my people."

Obi-Wan watched Mace compile his thoughts and felt a distinct wave of tiredness from the older Jedi. "The Herd reigns over the other three, Obi-Wan. All life for my people is dependent on the herd. Because of that, the other three pillars could and should be sacrificed."

Obi-Wan felt a chill run down his spine. "But you left that world behind. As Jedi, we leave all that behind."

Mace shook his head. "Or perhaps all of us retain some of who we were, even after years and years as a Jedi. For better or for worse. The Jedi are my family, but the Republic is my weakness. My _herd_, Obi-Wan, and I must sacrifice so much for its safety… So much," he sighed.

Obi-Wan felt a wave of sorrow for his friend. "But should you sacrifice who you are to keep it safe? Is that right?"

Mace met his eyes immediately, dark and haunted but lacking any doubt. "I don't know. But if I must, I will."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time Anakin loaded up his speeder and left the temple, the time was near midnight. It was too terribly easy for Obi-Wan to slide his borrowed speeder a few slots behind in the traffic.

Each time Obi-Wan felt tempted to turn his speeder back and quit following Anakin, he thought of Mace Windu's words and steeled himself on. The safety of the Jedi Order and the Republic were indeed at stake, and his duty was to them, not to emotions and attachments. He had to let this go…

Besides, Anakin's emotions were running high. He would come down and see reason once Obi-Wan talked with him. Anakin's speeder took a sudden sharp right turn, twisting toward 500 Republica. Obi-Wan jerked his own speeder aside in response, watching as his former padawan aimed straight for an upper level landing platform.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and Obi-Wan had to steady his driving. He had told Anakin not to…he had suspected…he had wished that Anakin had learned…but no. He pulled out of traffic into the shadows of the immense apartment complex and fished in his robes for the listening device. _Forgive me, my dear old friend._

As he directed it at Anakin, the younger Jedi brought his speeder to a full stop, leaping over the side and rushing toward a dark and gently rounded shape. The shape pulled forward into the light of the landing deck.

His heart sank. It was true.

Then Anakin's Secret was clinging to him, locking her lips with his.

His eyes could not un-see, and his ears could not forget Anakin's hoarse whisper when it sounded across the listening device, as the Jedi pulled away from the Senator's embrace and stared into her wide eyes.

"Oh, Padme, my wife, what are we going to do?"

Obi-Wan groaned. _Worse than I had imagined. Much worse._

**Come back, Yoda, and talk some sense into the Council! And poor Obi-Wan, caught in the middle. Palpatine's coming back in the next chapter, have no fear. Thanks for all the reviews, folks, and keep them coming please. :)**

**I am as pleased as a Munn in a pile of gold: I got myself the Star Wars comic book Clone Wars, Volume 5, Best Blades, which has a good Chancellor Palpatine-centric story in it. **

**I've also been distracted by doodling, and I've posted several Palpatine and Dooku drawings on my Deviant Art account, TheArtsyAardvark, inspired by the Clone Wars series. **

**And last news alert, I have a newish one-shot up as well: Wounds Heal, But Scars Go Deep. Check it out, but if you're squeamish about blood, you might want to avoid it. It's a Sith-training story, after all. **


	14. Schemers Gotta Scheme

_Potential warning: some medical descriptions/blood within _

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Coruscant

Late evening

Chapter Fourteen

The sleek doors of the Galactic Senate Medcenter had seen more than one supreme chancellor pass through as victims of assassination attempts. The drills were constantly practiced, the evacuation plans polished. Therefore, when the hospital's security was informed that "Sistros" was inbound and injured (and that no – it was _not_ a drill), they leapt into immediate action.

All non-political patients were immediately removed by transports to the smaller outlying medical centers. Snipers were placed at intervals along every floor, and the East wing of the Senate Trauma floor was emptied of all but the most critical patients: mostly fellow victims of the Opera House's collapse. Agents and droids quickly located the senior trauma doctors and ushered them into the floor's small debriefing room.

A large number of the Chancellor's Red Guard arrived before him, sweeping into the long bright halls and clearing the path of any remaining non-essential personnel. The medical transport bearing Palpatine and his entourage set down on the platform that folded out to receive it, tugging it into the building's interior the moment it landed. Force shields slammed into place. The Republic was taking no chances with its beloved leader.

Its beloved leader was taking no chances either. Palpatine, through Amedda, had managed to assure that the hospital would be cleared of Jedi on varying pretenses. A few were still unfortunately outside, but far enough from his presence that he could work in peace. As Amedda split from the group and moved for the turbolift to the Senate building, Palpatine was hovered down the hallway and into the largest of the trauma rooms. Medical staff and droids scurried everywhere, but thank the Force, the Jedi did not. He tested his strength in the Dark Side, certain that in this massive structure swimming with constant pain and death his subtle probing would not be noticed.

Palpatine was swiftly transferred to the permanent medical bed. Deep in the Dark Side, the Chancellor was unaware that he appeared to be in shock, and the medical staff hurried to stabilize him, wrapping body temperature regulators around his arms and chest. One droid scanned his spine for fractures, then elevated his legs in an urgent bid to increase bloodflow.

The grinding torment of the shifting bones brought him out of his trance with a strangled growl. In his haze, he lashed out at the cause of his pain, striking at the silvery droid and cracking one of its glowing visual sensors. Alarms clanged in his ears. Medics reached out and pinned his arms to the bed, begging him to calm down.

Sly Moore's drug was still coursing through his system and wreaking havoc with his basic impulses. Palpatine struggled to contain the Dark Lord's anger at the pain, struggled to relax under the half dozen hands that held him in place, though he wanted nothing more than to wring the neck of every last sentient in the room.

Sate Pestage was at his side suddenly, hurriedly dressed in sterile medical robes and shifting from foot to foot. Sidious caught his pleading gaze: _Do not lose control. _And he took strength from the single-minded purpose of his faithful aide. Slowly, he forced his muscles to loosen, forced himself to take a deep breath. The medics were now attempting to clean and close the gashes across his face and arms with bacta plasters, cutting away the ragged veda cloth of his once-immaculate robes.

One of the lead doctors, an older human male with wispy white hair, leaned into his view. "Supreme Chancellor, try to relax, sir. I'm Dr. Medici. You're in a lot of pain right now, but you need to try to relax. The pain will get better." Palpatine nodded, forcing the darkness into the back of his exhausted mind.

Pestage twisted his head toward Palpatine's legs. Two Rodian medics were carefully snipping his pant legs up the seams. Pestage winced as he spotted a bright flash of jagged white bone. "How bad are they? Can they be repaired quickly?"

Medici shook his head. "The initial scans show multiple breaking points. In fact, his left leg has several 'floating' pieces near the knee, which means operation if we're planning to save him from a permanent limp."

Palpatine went perfectly still, and Pestage paled. "We don't want any lingering effects."

"Well, he's lucky to be alive, from what I hear," Medici looked grim. "A limp would be a paltry price to pay, compared to many of the other victims of tonight. However, I think we can spare him that if we operate immediately and utilize the bacta tanks afterward."

"Casts."

Medici glanced down at Palpatine, who lay tight-lipped and determined. "Of course, the briefing… Casts, then, although that may take several more days. The casts carry a less intense dosage."

Pestage nodded. "As Supreme Chancellor in this critical time, he cannot afford to be out of touch for long. Military reasons, you see."

"Certainly, I see, but he will need to go under for the operation. I am not operating on a conscious patient, and absolutely not a conscious Supreme Chancellor."

Palpatine felt a surge of unnatural panic. To go under would be to relinquish control, and at such a volatile time, too! If Skywalker weakened and broke under the pressure of his fellow Jedi, Sidious would be open to attack. Powerless to defend himself… He considered forbidding it; as if the pain of operation could be any worse than his own years of training? Not likely!

Medici saw his hesitation and smiled gently. "Now, sir, it will only be for a short time, several hours at most. The surgery is fairly common, what with the need for speed that curses so many senators and diplomats here on Coruscant."

Pestage tried to assure him as well, gently touching a tightly clenched fist. "Mas Amedda will temporarily assume control while you are under, Your Excellency. Remember, he is already addressing the Senate. Things are well in hand. The Jedi are busy investigating their own."

_And that is what concerns me, _Palpatine thought. But to resist any longer would raise suspicions, and ever so slowly the logical part of his mind – the ice-cold Sith Lord – convinced him to nod in assent and offer his arm. He would come out of this and meet with success. There was no other option.

The needle slid into his soft flesh, the rush of the anesthesia tumbling him into quiet warm darkness, so different from the arctic burning of his Waking Darkness, so comfortable…he could afford to rest a moment here. Safe. No Jedi…

Sate Pestage watched his master's pale blue eyes roll back and close, felt the claw that had latched onto his arm go limp and drop to the bed. Dr. Medici nodded his gratitude, and the other medics guided Pestage from the room. The sallow aide paused in the hall, rubbing at his balding head and pondering the night's extraordinary events. He made sure several Red Guards remained posted at the entrance. It was time for him to spread some rumors in the precious duration before the Senate convened.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Galactic Senate Building

Coruscant

Near Midnight

Amedda growled with irritation as the Senate again erupted into chaos. Many of the pods remained empty at this late hour. The emergency meeting had gathered perhaps half to a third of the usual senators, not counting the injured and dead from the Opera House's collapse. But fewer senators did not make for quieter debates. In fact, the noise only seemed greater as friends called for comrades and enemies accused each other.

"As per Executive Regulation 45, section B," he thundered over the roar, "while the Chancellor is only temporarily indisposed, the Vice Chair of the Senate assumes his authority."

"How long?" the senator from Botalla shouted. "How long will the Chancellor be gone? I was to bring a petition on the sector governors to him tomorrow. The war continues with or without him."

_I would not be so certain of that,_ Amedda scowled at the scurrilous creature. "Then you will bring it to me. I am legally his standing representative at this point. And at this point, we cannot proceed until the entire situation has been brought to light."

Senator Fema Baab, a beautiful and dark-skinned human, drove her pod into the center. "Vice Chair, this situation is terrible to conceive. I have recently received disturbing reports of the assassination attempt. The word in the streets is that the Chancellor was attacked by an individual with Jedi powers!"

The Senate froze for a moment, then erupted into frantic boos and hissing.

Senator Bail Organa, looking exhausted and worn already, called down, "Are you saying the Jedi attacked the Chancellor? That's outrageous! The Jedi protect the Chancellor. I heard Anakin Skywalker was personally responsible for rescuing him."

"I didn't explicitly say the Jedi did it," Baab retorted. "But who other than the Jedi wield the Force in such deadly manner? Can you answer me that?"

The annoyingly emotional Padme Amidala was nowhere to be seen, but Mon Mothma raised her hands in replacement. "We can tell you who. The Jedi have an enemy that seeks to destroy all of us! They are called the Sith Lords!"

The majority of the Senate drowned her out with jeering and whistles. The Neimoidian Lot Dodd floated his pod into the fray, large red eyes blinking angrily at Mon Mothma. "Not more fairy tales of the Sith," he wheezed out a laugh, and the Senate joined him. "We've never seen any evidence of the sort. I've half a mind the Jedi have made up this… boogyman Sith… just to keep us from asking too many questions."

Amedda stepped to his podium. "Yes. Senator Mothma, kindly keep the discussion in the Senate to the facts we know, not to hearsay and ancient rumors."

Organa's face reddened, and he pointed at Baab. "Her words are the words of the street, as she has admitted. Let them also be stricken from the discussion!"

Amedda nodded. "Noted and approved, but the fact remains, the assassin was using the Force. I can confirm this, as the Chancellor informed me after his rescue."

A shiver ran through the Senate. The Chancellor had seen it himself. How frightening, to be attacked by such unnatural beings! Their poor brave leader! The Kaminoan senator Halli Burtoni requested permission to speak, and Amedda was glad to have her.

"Senators," she croaked, head swaying on her long neck, "Rumors are all we have at this point, but we need not be content with rumors. This was a Force-wielder. Let us investigate the Force-wielders we know. Let us investigate the Order of the Jedi!"

"No!" Organa shouted. "We cannot turn on our friends like this!"

The three eyes of Senator Ask Aak bulged from their sockets. "Friends!" he brayed. "The Jedi are no friends of mine or Malastare's! I second Senator Burtoni's motion! The Jedi cannot be allowed immunity from the laws of the Republic."

The Senate roared and stamped its approval. Cries of _Vote Now _began to echo from different sections. Amedda felt a small grin on his normally stoic blue face. The Senate wanted blood payment, and it seemed the supernatural Jedi would take their ire. He ordered an immediate count of the present senators, but was disappointed.

Quorum could not be met.

Amedda thought fast. As Palpatine's stand-in, and with Palpatine's recent control over the Jedi Council, perhaps he could bypass the need for a vote. On the other hand, acting alone could lead the Jedi to try something rash. Time would escalate the rumors. Also, if the entire Senate voted for the investigation, the Jedi would not be able to protest. They served the Senate, as they so often _loved_ to tout.

_Think like Palpatine, and let the people lead themselves to their own ends,_ Amedda told himself, and he stepped forward again. "Quorum is unmet as of now. We have a motion to investigate the Jedi Order in relation to the assassination attempt on Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. We will reconvene tomorrow to vote on the motion! This emergency meeting is adjourned!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Coruscant

Very Early Morning

When he woke up again the room was dark with the blackness of early morning, with only the soft green glow of the medical lighting. Sidious was initially disoriented. His ears felt stuffed full of soft rags; his eyes were going in and out of focus. At last, he recalled the surgery and the anesthetic and tentatively stretched his mind through the Force. Feeling no additional Force-sensitives, he wrestled control of the miniscule force-carriers in his body, neutralizing the painkillers.

The pain roared back into his legs, but he ignored it. Awareness came with pain; such was always the exacting price. The haziness in his mind cleared away in the onslaught of the Dark tide. The Dark Side responded quickly now that he was recovered and rested from the display at the Opera. Here too, was relaxation, for he no longer doubted his survival. Not that he ever truly had, but events tonight had gotten too unreadable for his liking. Risk-taking was foolhardy when victory could be assured instead.

He was not concerned with dying by the hands of the Jedi, not in the slightest. He had not foreseen any such future in all his hundreds of possible outcomes. No dire vision greeted him now when he pushed on the currents of the Force, and so Sidious remained content with that. This seemingly disastrous night at the opera had only sped the inevitable: his rise to power and Skywalker's fall to the Dark Side. The night warned him of his overconfidence, and he would have to move very carefully now, but he would overcome all adversity. How could he not?

Sidious had intended to purge himself of the Umbaran drug when he was finally left "alone." The Dark Side raged more powerfully in him with every passing minute, but he became aware of several medics moving about the large room, fiddling with the displays and instruments. He studied them under half-closed eyelids: both blind to the Force and young, easy and open to manipulation.

"Medic…" he gasped out, his voice raw from his unnatural sleep, and was gratified to see the two bound to his side.

"Your Excellency, what's wrong?" the young female asked.

"I require your help…" he motioned both of them closer. "I need to you to take a message for me."

"Of course, sir," and the young man turned to retrieve a datapad, but Sidious latched onto his wrist and pulled him back.

"No need for that," he whispered. The young man and woman were too simple; his thoughts flowed into their small brains and became their own, his desire easily overrode their wills. It was a simple and elegant Dark technique, similar to the Force persuasion of the Jedi, except that it went further in binding their consciousness to his own, like puppets on dark and smoky strings.

Both turned from the bed – eyes empty – and exited the room. He heard their droning voices assure the other staff members that the Chancellor was peacefully sleeping and entirely monitored by the medical droids. Speaking of which…he turned another portion of his mind to the machines and shut them down silently with a twitch of his hand.

Truly alone now, Sidious dropped into the currents of the Dark Side and allowed himself to be swept from his body. He imagined placing his hands on the small puncture in his shoulder and drew deeply on the Force. Residual anger from the initial attack flooded into his mind. He welcomed it gladly. The anger was cold and slow-burning, the best kind, for it most swiftly turned to frigid and far-seeing hatred.

The searing edge of his power stabbed into the small wound, writhing into his shoulder and seizing upon the midi-chlorians that dared challenge it. His body jerked, revolting, but he twisted the Dark Blade deeper, finally brushing against the foreign drug particles. After locating them, it was a simple matter of absorbing them into the nothingness of the Dark Side through his alchemy. As soon as he did, he relinquished his hold on the Force and dropped back into his mortal form with a soft triumphant gasp.

His mind was entirely his own again; Lord Sidious was no longer constrained to the petty realm of "truth," and the Sith smiled faintly. He felt for the presence of the distant Jedi and was relieved to note that they remained ignorant. The cloud of darkness he had unleashed at the Opera still hung over them all, still preoccupied and worried them. Good.

Darth Sidious released the medics' minds and flipped the droids back on. Then he summoned a thick dark gray bathrobe from one of the closets and struggled into it, feeling ill at ease with the hospital gown he wore.

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine greeted Dr. Medici with a tired but optimistic smile as the older man stepped into the room. "I take it the surgery was a success?"

Dr. Medici raised a surprised eyebrow when he saw the robe yet grinned back. "You tell me, Your Excellency, but I would say so." He moved around to Palpatine's side, raising the bed slightly and checking one of the displays. "How are you managing the pain?"

"It is tolerable."

"Excellent." Dr. Medici pointed a bright light into both eyes, and Palpatine felt them grow watery in protest. "I must say, you're far more alert than Chancellor Valorum was after his surgery, almost like you weren't even put under. They make those painkillers better every year, I swear."

"It must be so." The simple lie came so easily now, and he felt the thrill run through him.

Medici patted his shoulder and listened to his lungs. "And you are a brave man, Your Excellency. We were so overjoyed when we learned they had found you. My daughter idolizes you, in fact," he beamed. "She wants to go into politics because of you."

"Does she? I am honored," Palpatine forced his smile a little wider so that he would not be tempted to roll his eyes: likely a brainless little thing, hoping to ride her father's wealth and influence into power. Was the good doctor even now attempting to announce her ambition?

"She might come by later tomorrow, Your Excellency, if I could introduce her…"

_Humans. Hah. And Plagueis thought we were unpredictable._

"I would like that," he sighed instead. "A bit of normalcy might hasten the days here."

His melancholy gaze sobered the doctor. "You should be fully recovered within the week, sir. The surgery went off without any problems, but we would like to keep you here and monitored while the Bacta casts are working. In the meantime, our best physical therapists will be arriving tomorrow to discuss your strengthening exercises." Medici leaned over him and tightened one of the straps on his left leg cast.

Palpatine grunted softly as the tender leg was shifted. At the doctor's look of concern, he shrugged. "It would seem the pain medication is wearing off a bit."

A small handheld device was quickly given to him. "Press it on the half hour, and that shouldn't be happening again," Medici assured him.

"My thanks."

Medici still lingered. "Ah, the…eh… trauma specialists will also be dropping by tomorrow."

Palpatine glanced up. "I thought you were my trauma doctor."

Medici frowned. "No, not that kind of trauma, Your Excellency. Psychological trauma."

"I don't need psychotherapy." His voice was low, suddenly grating, and Medici flinched.

"We're afraid you may feel fine now, sir, but often the mental effects of such an accident surface much later. We want to minimize any possible ill effects."

A claw reached up and attached to his white vest. "_I don't need psychotherapy."_

Medici's eyes glazed over. "Of course, you don't need psychotherapy. Why on earth would I think you did?"

Palpatine chuckled. "It escapes me, but I appreciate your concern all the same. We must all look out for each other in these dark times."

Medici laughed with him and then asked, "Are you feeling up to company? I would say you've been out of recovery long enough. The Vice Chancellor is waiting with your aide, the little skinny fellow who was with us last night."

Palpatine instantly felt reenergized. "Of course. Please, send them in."

As Medici exited the room and Amedda strode in, followed by the slinking Pestage, Palpatine's mind began to move again with its customary nimbleness. The Senate would be relatively easy to handle, as he already had them eating from his hands, but the other pieces on the board would also need adjustment eventually. The Separatists. Grievous. Nute Gunray. His alternate armies were currently aimless without Dooku at their head, and to be honest, he had not expected to be using Grievous for long.

But since the plan to reveal himself had been sped up, what part could the Separatists play now? A distraction would be good, something to keep the vast majority of the Jedi occupied while Anakin wallowed in self-doubt. He could order an attack somewhere important, while the Chancellor was weak and indisposed. Perhaps even something to make the Jedi grasp for greater autonomy, just to get the Senate thinking. Or perhaps…something to implicate the Jedi…

To cast greater suspicion on the Order would only help his cause. The Senate could not be allowed to place their faith in a dying breed. Nor could Anakin. _Until he is kneeling at your feet and begging you to save his mewling little wife, you must not antagonize him. You must be the victim here. But that will be no challenge._ He needed to speak with Sarcev Quest and arrange a little…incident.

When he deigned to notice the others in the room, he found them impatient and agitated. "Well?" he drawled.

"Your Excellency," Amedda bowed. "I have just come from an emergency gathering of the Senate. Not many could attend at such short notice, but we have begun. I have managed to arrange for an investigation of the Jedi Order. We vote on it tomorrow."

"Good." He appraised his Vice Chair and felt a growing confidence in the Chagrian. To leave it to the Senate was cunning foresight. "An investigation will put them on the defensive, looking inward, and that will give us leave to make our own moves freely."

Pestage leaned in. "My agents are still spreading the rumors of the Jedi. I've confirmed the support of over two hundred Senators so far, and I'm expecting a lot more when the rest of them wake up from their drunken stupors."

Palpatine nodded. "Keep to it until the vote passes. Tomorrow I shall make arrangements to aid our cause in the war as well. The Jedi will no doubt be pounding down my door trying to reach me. Did you manage to locate our key supporters, Mas?"

Amedda's lethorns twisted with pleased accomplishment. "I did, Your Excellency, Ask Aak and Fema Baab foremost among them. They will be by to see you tomorrow and inquire after your health."

"Also to demand that you allow them to investigate your friends, the Jedi," Pestage snickered. Even Amedda found the thought amusing, Palpatine noticed.

Sidious spread his hands wide and mused, "And how can I deny the honorable Senate anything, hm?"

**So, the schemers are back and in full swing. Palpatine's not letting a bad night at the Opera slow him down much, and now we see some of his long-term strategy. Anakin and Padme are up next. I based the medical experiences off what I have experienced in the past, just with some bacta-level technology thrown in.**

**One-shot alert: I have a new one out, called "The Courtship of Padme Amidala." It was a challenge from a lost bet with a friend, who demanded that I write a romantic Palpatine story. Well…It's the closest I'll ever get, even if it's not really romantic. But I got her on a technicality. :)**

**Read and review! I love reviews, I truly do!**


	15. How Can You Love Him Best?

o

_If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I._

Chapter Fifteen

500 Republica

Coruscant

Very Early Morning

Anakin could think of nothing more comforting than sitting ensconced in the arms of his wife within their own private apartment. Technically, it was in her name, but they knew differently. This was the domain of Anakin Skywalker and Padme Naberrie, not a Jedi and not a senator. They were alone, just the two of them shutting out the external sorrows of the universe.

But the universe had followed Anakin in last night, and he could barely focus on the warm, encouraging smile of his soul mate. She sat beside him, pulling one hand gently through his rumpled hair. On his arrival from the Jedi Temple, at her insistence, he had taken a shower and fallen asleep in her arms. He slept for several hours, mentally and physically exhausted, but fitfully turning, unable to truly rest. Now he was dressed in light nightclothes and a bathrobe, picking through a half-eaten tray of Nubian flocktak cakes. His mind was unaware of the fact.

Instead, he was agonizing over his newfound information. Padme had not demanded to know what was wrong yet. She had taken one good look at his face when he arrived, and her newly-forming motherly instincts took over. Now, she was waiting, her soft eyes attempting to meet his but saying nothing.

He refused to meet the challenge and watched the night traffic rush by 500 Republica. Thousands and thousands of sentients drove by in a steady stream, all carrying on with life as though all that mattered was getting to their next meeting or party or bar. Anakin envied them and hated them at the same time. Why was he chosen to live this life? Why could he not have been born blind to the Force?

"Anakin? Anakin, stop that…" Padme spoke at last, pulling his mechanical hand away from the tray where he had been systematically crushing the helpless cakes one at a time. "You're not going to get any nourishment that way."

Her smile was faint and worried. He finally met her inquisitive eyes and failed to smile back. "I'm sorry, Padme. I just…don't know what to do. I'm not hungry at all."

She pushed the tray away and leaned into his arm. "I'm here, Anakin. You can tell me anything, you know that. You don't have to shut me out."

Would she shut him out when she learned what he was considering? When she learned that he was thinking of using a Sith Lord to save her life? Padme trusted the Jedi Council implicitly, as far as he could see. She nearly always took their side in any political situation. Anakin figured it was because she was not closely involved in the Council's affairs. She could not see the back-stabbing and manipulation that he did as a Jedi.

Could he trust her not to go running to the Council? Anakin almost snorted at the thought. If he could not trust Padme, there was nothing else to live for. She was his life, his end-all, and she had no clue of the power she held over him.

She was patiently waiting for him to speak. He hedged, "I don't want to shut you out, Padme. But you have to promise me you won't get upset."

"Upset?" Padme's eyes widened. "Anakin, I will never get upset at you because you share something with me. We are husband and wife, and that's what we do."

He wrapped his arm further around her shoulders and gently squeezed. "Yes. Yes, Padme. We are. You share everything with me, and I…I sit and mope all the time. I'm not worthy of you…"

Her face grew pale, and now she looked away. "It is I who am not worthy, Anakin," she half-whispered. "You are priceless and perfect. Don't disparage yourself."

He wondered briefly at her sudden sadness, but he was still trying to decide how to tell her. "You know the dreams I had…about you."

Padme glanced at him. "Yes, the dreams of childbirth. The dreams of my death. Oh, Anakin, that's not going to happen! We're on Coruscant. No one has died of childbirth on Coruscant in hundreds of years. It's not an issue anymore."

Anakin stretched out his other hand and placed it on her swollen middle, felt the soft kick of the child within. "It might be irrational, Padme, but my dreams are not just dreams. I am a Jedi, and these are visions. Visions of the future! They haven't stopped, and if anything, they've gotten worse. I know something bad is going to happen if something doesn't change!"

"My love," she sighed and covered his hand with her own. "I don't think you're being irrational. I know the Jedi have special powers, but not all visions come true. Why are you so worried about them tonight? And why did you come home tonight? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. What's happened?"

Here it was. He had to tell.

"I think I found a way to save you, Padme," he blurted, watching a blanket of genuine surprise cover her face. "That's what happened tonight."

And in a tumble of rushed words, he told her about the opera and how the assassins came to kill Chancellor Palpatine. The senator in her instantly bubbled to the surface with a gasp.

"Sly Moore! His own aide! Anakin, this is simply awful! If he had been killed, the Republic would have thrown into chaos. It's a miracle that you're both alive! Does the Senate know?" she half rose to reach for the holonet remote, but he reached out and caught her hand.

"The Senate probably already knows, Padme. The Chancellor is at the Senate hospital, and Mas Amedda was with him."

Padme shook her head, soft hair bouncing. "Thank goodness he is all right. We'll have to hold a special session tomorrow. I'll find out what's going on there." Slowly, she reclined against him again. "An assassination attempt… I can't stand the danger you get into, Anakin. I feel like I die a little each time something like this happens."

"Don't say that, Padme!" Anakin growled in alarm and pressed her tightly to him, as though he could hold her to life that way. Her death was horrifying to him.

"I'm sorry, Ani," Padme moved closer. "But I love you too, you know. More than life itself!"

Anakin leaned in and kissed her, a desperate, swift, and fearful kiss. When he pulled away, they were both trembling. Padme stared at him.

"What is it, Anakin? There's something you're still holding back. Why do you think you can save me because of tonight?" She reached up and cupped his face in her slender hands, forcing him to look at her. He flinched.

"I…you can't tell the Jedi!" he exclaimed. "But I think…I think the Chancellor knows how to save you."

Padme's face emptied of everything except confusion. "The Chancellor knows how to save me?"

"Yes! I talked to him after the attack. He knows another way, Padme. He knows there's a way to save people from dying!" He willed her to understand, his hands latching onto her thin shoulders. "And I can save you with it. You won't have to die!"

"I don't understand," Padme protested. "Anakin, what do you mean? The Chancellor isn't a Jedi. He doesn't have the Force. How – "

"But he does!"

Her confusion only grew. "What? That's impossible! He would have been trained as a Jedi from a very young – "

"No, he wasn't!" And Anakin felt himself hesitating at last. "He wasn't…"

Padme lowered her hands from his face and leaned back. "Then how did he escape detection on Naboo? That's not some Outer Rim world, Anakin. This isn't making sense."

Anakin could barely force the words out from between his teeth. "He's not a Jedi because he's something else. He's…a Sith."

Her jaw gaped open. "You can't be serious."

"I am!" Anakin insisted. He had gone too far to stop now. "He is the Sith Lord we've been looking for."

Padme shot up from the couch as though she had been scalded by his confession. She paced away from him and went to stand at the dark window. After an agonizing moment of silence, she twisted to look at him again. "A Sith! Anakin, do you realize what you're saying?"

Anakin jumped to his feet as well, feeling the frustration swell again. "Of course I do! More than you!" He nearly snarled the words and instantly regretted it, and sliding up to Padme, he put his arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Padme. I didn't mean to shout. I just…I know he's dangerous. I know what he could do to the Senate."

She pushed his arms down and glared. "Not _could do, _Anakin! What he's doing right now! He has control of the Republic, and he's tearing it down! He's destroying our democracy!" Her hands flapped helplessly. "He's practically a dictator already! This all makes so much more sense now. Bail and Mon were right. We have to stop him."

Imploring eyes stared up at him. It would have been hard to keep arguing, if he did not also see the tortured eyes of his dying wife. The vision pushed him on. "What do you mean, Bail and Mon? Besides, they voted for him. Legally, he's Chancellor, Padme. Legally, the Senate gave him those powers. You can't just manipulate the system when it suits you."

"Is that what you think? I love democracy, Anakin. I'll fight for it until my last breath. You clearly don't see how dangerous Palpatine is. He's fooled you into believing him." She pivoted away from him.

"No! I do know, and I can control him, Padme. I know who he is, and he knows it too. I can use that to make him help us." Anakin reached out again and gently, insistently turned her around to face him, his voice lowering into a dark whisper. "I won't lose you, Padme."

Her wide eyes trapped his. "Control him? Do you hear yourself? He's a Sith Lord. He's been controlling all of us for decades! How can you expect to control such a monster!"

He reacted instinctively, pulling back and snapping, "He's not a monster! Don't say that!" _If he is a monster, I am too. You don't know what I've done._

Startled, Padme attempted to pull her arms free. "Anakin! You're holding too tight!"

Immediately he let go, horrified. "I'm sorry. Padme! I'm sorry!" Anakin stumbled back to the couch and collapsed. She did not understand, and how could she? He was always closer to Palpatine than she had been. She could not know like he did how she would die. Gradually, as he held his head in his hands, he became aware that she had returned to his side and was stroking his hair. "He was my friend, Padme. My mentor," he gasped sadly. "Maybe the closest thing I've ever had to a father. I can't… I know he's done terrible things, but so have I. And I won't let this chance to save you go by."

"Have you spoken to Obi-Wan?"

He looked at her in surprise. "Obi-Wan? No, no, and I won't either. I can't trust him with this. He'd go right to the Council."

"But, Anakin, we can trust him. He's your friend, and he's a true friend, too. Not like Palpatine."

He resented her words. "Palpatine cares about me, Padme. He doesn't care about being a perfect Jedi. He doesn't care if you and I are married. I know he wouldn't. I bet he'd even support us."

Padme took him by the shoulders and hissed, "Anakin, listen to yourself. He's evil!"

"Maybe he is, and maybe he isn't," Anakin shrugged, taking her hands in his. "Maybe he's just doing what he feels has to be done. I'm going to do what has to be done, Padme. Please try to understand. Without you, my life is meaningless. I'd die!"

Silence again. Padme finally replied, "Anakin, you have to tell someone. He's tricking you into helping him. If we can remove him from office – "

Anakin bitterly laughed. "How, Padme? Treason? He's still Chancellor, even though he's also a Sith. Overthrow him by force? You were the one to put him there, in fact!" He saw her wince and softened his tone. "How are we any better then? But we can work together, maybe… I can control him, and you can help me. We can make him do what you want!"

Padme kept shaking her head. "Blackmail? And all the while, the war continues and millions more will die!"

"I don't care!" _I really don't. Is that bad?_

"What?" Evidently it was quite bad, judging by the horror in her eyes.

He backpedaled. "I mean, I care, but not as much as I care about you! You can't tell anyone, Padme! You have to promise me you won't tell! The Jedi will kill him, I know it!"

"The Jedi only want to do what's right, Anakin," she pleaded.

The anger surged again with devastating effect. "Do they? Do they! They wanted to rip out my memories tonight, Padme. Right in front of everyone. They wanted to know everything! And they would have, too, if I hadn't left."

Padme's lip trembled. "You told me, not long ago, that you were tired of hiding. That you didn't care."

"Things have changed, Padme. If they knew, I would be expelled from the Council and the Order. I think I'm already close to that after tonight. I have to know what they're planning. And you, you'd be sent back to Naboo alone, in disgrace. I can't allow that, not with the visions."

"Anakin, please let me tell the others in the Senate. We're unaware of the danger – "

_That_ he could not allow. He felt the self control in him slipping away in blind panic, and he gripped her hands tighter. "No! No. You can't. Please, Padme, don't make me… Please don't. You'll die, and I'll die. Please…"

She would not meet his scrutiny for the longest time. He felt the future swirling in unsure turmoil. When she finally looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes. "How long?"

The tension eased, the hope spilled back into him. He gathered her close and whispered, "Until I can learn how to save you. Then everything will be all right. I promise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

With each hour that Obi-Wan huddled in his speeder next to 500 Republica, his hopes dropped lower and lower. The truth was now entirely obvious. Anakin was married to Padme, and Padme's gentle bulge in her midsection was the result. His former padawan had truly gotten himself into a mess. When had he gotten married? When had Anakin ever had the chance to be alone with Padme Amidala for any length of time?

Obi-Wan cast his mind back. Since becoming a Jedi Knight, Anakin had been sent on mission after mission, coming back to Coruscant only a few days at a time. Obi-Wan knew he would sneak out of the Jedi Temple some of those nights, always returning before the sun was up. Obi-Wan never had the urge to ask him about it; if it was important, Anakin would tell him.

The last time Anakin and Senator Amidala had been alone for a long time had been… Obi-Wan felt his heart drop into his stomach. The start of the Clone Wars. Before the Battle of Geonosis, and after, when Anakin had escorted her back to Naboo. Anakin had returned from his mission with a bright glow of satisfaction and contentment that was unusual, especially in light of his mother's recent death. Obi-Wan had only been grateful that Anakin was taking it and the loss of his arm so well. After all, one did not look a gift nerf in the mouth.

He should have carefully studied the teeth. Too late now, Anakin was firmly entrenched in his marriage. The Jedi Council would be furious if they learned of his student's subterfuge. Obi-Wan felt nothing but sorrow and hurt. Anakin did not trust him as he had thought. He had failed in maintaining an open friendship, and he had no clue why. Who knew what other secrets the young man held close to his chest?

Anakin held something back about tonight. Obi-Wan could not forget the heart-stopping pain of earlier, when he knew something had happened to Anakin. The dark feeling still lingered, twisting his soul and surfacing in a barrage of doubt. On the platform in front of the ruined Opera House, he had sensed despair and fear in the Chosen One, far beyond Anakin's normal amount of apprehension.

The first rays of the morning were casting a golden light across 500 Republica when Obi-Wan spotted Anakin leaving the apartment. The young Jedi walked with purpose to his speeder, climbing in without a look back and taking off in the direction of the Senate building. Obi-Wan watched him go and debated his next move.

The Council wanted him to spy on Anakin. They would expect a full report on what Obi-Wan found. However, did Anakin's marriage apply to the current orders? The Council was looking for information on tonight specifically. If he could pry that loose, then perhaps he could neglect to mention Anakin's marital misjudgment until he spoke some sense into his wayward friend.

Anakin's marriage was not critical, Obi-Wan decided. The Dark Side of tonight, on the other hand, was. So he waited ten more minutes before angling his speeder down to the platform and climbing out to announce his arrival.

C-3PO came to the sliding door and chirped, "Master Kenobi, it is indeed a pleasure to see you on this fine morning."

"Thank you," and Obi-Wan was distressed to find that his voice quavered a bit. He pushed the emotion down and let the peace of the Force flow into him. "But I am here on business only. Is Senator Amidala in?"

At that moment, the woman in question rounded the corner into the living room and abruptly halted, staring at him with wide eyes. She was holding a tall glass and clutching a large chaise pillow to her midsection, and Obi-Wan had the misfortune of knowing why. Padme was still trying to hide it. "Obi-Wan!" she exclaimed. "How did you-? Why are you here so early?"

He gallantly bowed. "Senator, I apologize, but there are some matters I must discuss with you."

She hesitated only a moment before the surprise was replaced by her blank politician's face. "I see. Please, come in." She gracefully motioned him into the living quarters.

"Thank you."

They sat on opposite ends of the couch. C-3PO politely inquired if he would like a drink. He did not. Delaying was only costing time, so he turned toward Padme. "Senator, I suppose you've heard about the events tonight at the Galaxies Opera House."

The knuckles on her hand grew pale as she clutched the glass, but her voice was calm. "Yes, yes, I heard."

"The Jedi Council has ordered an investigation. The Dark Side was strongly felt by nearly every Jedi on Coruscant. We're concerned with the implications of that. And I'm concerned about Anakin."

She froze in place. Her voice had gained a low tremor. "Anakin Skywalker?"

Obi-Wan locked his eyes on her and intoned, "Senator Amidala. This is a very uncomfortable subject for me. You know we've talked about Anakin before."

She stared back. "Yes, of course." No sign of breaking yet.

He pushed harder. "Please, Senator. You know I asked you to refrain growing any…closer…to Anakin."

"So you did," her dark eyes were fairly snapping with suspicion and fear.

For the sake of the Hutts, this was awkward! "I have been placed in the undesirable position of monitoring Anakin's activities tonight. I followed Anakin here. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Her face lost what little color it had, and she finally admitted, "You know then." Her hands stroked across the pillow.

"I'm afraid I always knew. I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't think it would do any harm. My lady, I asked you not to – "

"And I didn't think it was any of your business, Obi-Wan!"

Anakin was the business of the Jedi, like it or not. At the moment, he really loathed the thought. Yet it didn't matter what he thought. "But to get married, Senator! You know Anakin is forbidden to form such attachments. And yet you went ahead and did it anyway."

"It was mutual, I assure you." Her tone grew icy and distant. "Are you planning to tell the Council?"

He refused to back down. "I should. It would be my duty." _But I can't do that now. I had my suspicions and refused to act on them. I can't start cracking down suddenly._

Her frigid façade cracked, and the ice in her eyes melted to tears. "You would destroy Anakin."

Obi-Wan rearranged himself on the couch and coughed. "I know, and that's why I won't. That blasted boy gets me every time," he offered a weak smile. "He can't take more of the Council's judgment so soon. But, Senator, I must know what he told you about tonight. That I cannot hide from the Council. The very Republic might be in danger, your Republic."

He was wrong when he thought Padme could not get any paler. "That's…I. He didn't want me to tell anyone."

Her reaction was enough to raise his instinctive alarms, and the cool Jedi in him took over. "Senator, if you know something that puts us all at risk, you must tell me. Think of Anakin. He was surrounded by the Dark Side tonight. I know you can't see it, but he is in very great danger. I fear for him."

"I know you do," Padme still resisted, but he sensed a weakening in her, a desperate fear and desire to share her knowledge.

"Is there any danger to the Republic?" Her silence unnerved him, and he let some of his disbelief show. "Senator, you swore an oath to defend this government. All the years I have known you, you have been first in line to fight for the Republic's true core. And now you hesitate at a potentially critical moment?"

Padme shuddered and glanced at the floor. "You accuse me of much, and all of it is true," she murmured. "I see now why the Jedi disapprove of attachment and love."

Obi-Wan softened in pity. "Love is not wrong, Senator, not unless it becomes obsessive and blind. I love Anakin."

Padme regarded him in silence. "I know you do. I have always trusted your judgment. But I do too, Obi-Wan. I _do_ love Anakin. That's why I must honor his wishes."

"Sometimes, Padme" – and she looked sharply at him when he said her name – "sometimes when we love someone, the right thing to do isn't always what they want. You're letting the love you have for Anakin rob you of your common sense. In holding this information back, you may be placing him in mortal danger. Do you want him hurt?"

She shook her head, struck mute by his words.

"Padme?"

A deep sigh, a defeated and soft groan, a sharp shake of the head. "I didn't promise him. I will need some time, Obi-Wan. I want you to promise me that."

He let his puzzlement show at the same time some dark warning seized him. "I can get you time, Padme, but why?"

"I have to get him away before you can inform the Council."

The dark warning blossomed into a blaring alarm. "Get him away from what?"

And in a few simple words, she told him.

**Obi-Wan to the rescue! Probably…Maybe…Hopefully… Anyway, this is my first attempt seriously writing Padme, the poor thing. Her character is always so torn between her responsibility to the Republic and Anakin. **

**My views on the Anakin/Padme relationship: doomed to failure. Anakin strikes me as an obsessive control freak and Padme as an emotional waffler. This does not mean I don't sympathize, but the relationship never seemed established on anything other than flimsy emotion and desire, from what I can see.**

**Quote at the top by Michel de Montaigne**

**Oneshot alert: I have a fairly new one out, called "Sacrifices Must be Made," featuring Palpatine and Maul. Violence warning. Feel free to check it out.**

**Thanks to everyone for the fantastic reviews of the last chapter. It gives me warn and fuzzy feelings of happiness. :) **


	16. In Which Padme Tries to Run Interference

o

"You may have noticed that I have a certain gift for getting my way." – Palpatine, _ROTS novelization_

Chapter Sixteen

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Coruscant

Morning

One of the first things Palpatine ordered after reviving from surgery was a complete auditory shutdown of the trauma unit. The room was carefully scanned for listening devices and then locked into the best soundproof shielding system that credits could procure. He then put in a call to wrap up some loose ends in the Senate.

"Excellency?" Sarcev Quest was surprised when Palpatine contacted him in the guise of the bedridden Supreme Chancellor. "I am glad to see you well, my lord. I had heard rumors that you were killed when the Opera House collapsed."

Palpatine grimaced. "A rather disappointing attempt anyway. One of my staff and I had a disagreement. Let us say, it has been settled, but you and I have more business."

Quest's wavering blue hologram grinned. "A mission?"

He nodded. "Naturally. The Jedi are getting close to becoming a true thorn in our side. I have decided to accelerate the pushes against their Order. The General has been relegated to the Outer Rim, and even now he is intensifying the attacks to draw more of the Jedi there, but I want you to make some contact here in the Core."

"A setup." Quest guessed instantly.

"I have always admired your propensity for stage performances, Sarcev. The Senate already suspects the Jedi of playing a role in tonight's fiasco. They vote today to investigate, and though I expect no issues to arise, a few influential senators remain in the game. They may hold unnatural sway in my absence."

"Who, my lord?"

"Bail Organa to be precise. The man retains the respect of the Senate and has managed to avoid the controversy that saturates his partisan companions. He is also a firm friend to the Jedi. So you must provide a distraction for him on Alderaan. I will leave it to you to choose the target." Palpatine noted the young man's eagerness with satisfaction. Most underlings required a careful and close monitoring, but Quest would do the job all too well and needed little guidance. He operated much like Pestage in that regard.

"Of course," Quest chortled. "And what about Senator Amidala? She is also a Jedi supporter and has been known to swing votes."

Palpatine shook his head. "As I said, she is partisan and unreliable. She is also the wife of Anakin Skywalker. You will not engage her."

Quest bowed slightly. "Understood, my lord. I will begin right away."

"See that you do." And he cut the transmission as the guard at his door announced the arrival of several well-wishing Senators.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anakin plowed up the steps of the medcenter, nearly running down a small Rodian who had the misfortune to step in his path. The alien squeaked and snarled, "Watch where you're going, Jedi!" but Anakin hardly noticed. Once inside the glistening entryway of the building, he found the help desk and announced himself. The young twi'lek made a quick call and then waved him into the elevator. Inside, he found several Red Guards waiting to escort him up.

"You can go right in," one of them told him in a tinny voice when the elevator doors swished open. Anakin forced his leaping stride to a stately walk as he approached the door to the trauma unit, stopping just before stepping in and observing the situation.

Half a dozen senators circled the wide bed on which Palpatine was resting. Among them, Anakin recognized Ask Aak and Orn Free Taa, both senators that Padme often complained about. They were loyal to their checkbooks, and to the one who filled those checkbooks. Palpatine. Anakin felt a familiar surge of dislike for the corrupt Senate. The idiots practically deserved what Palpatine had been planning.

He watched with faintly impressed amazement as the Chancellor chatted with the other politicians, his smile weak and fatigued but otherwise optimistic. Palpatine was as at-home here in the hospital bed as he was in the Chancellor's office, modestly waving away the concerns of his worshippers. Anakin became aware of a young human girl standing closest to Palpatine and smiling as though dazed to be in his presence.

She was gushing, "I am overwhelmed to be meeting you, Chancellor! When we learned you had been injured, we were so worried."

Palpatine nodded and reached to clasp her outstretched hand with his own white-bandaged hands. "Thank you, my dear girl. If not for the support of the people, I would be unable to bear this burden. No honest politician would. I understand from your father that you are eyeing a political position someday soon."

She blushed at the personal attention. Anakin silently groaned as he watched her fall under the soft-spoken spell. "Ah, yes sir, I'm thinking about politics. I've applied to the Coruscant Plaza Law College."

"Excellent school, good grasp on the real nature of things. Of course, politics is not all explosions and rescue missions. It can be quite a dull ride on occasion. Can you handle that?" the Chancellor lifted his eyebrows in lighthearted teasing.

The senators around him laughed heartily, and the girl turned an even brighter red. "I hope so, Supreme Chancellor. You have enough adventures for all of us."

His smile turned thoughtful. "Hm, yes, I suppose I do."

As the small group of senators took the Chancellor's lead and politely inquired about the girl's future plans, Palpatine's eyes slowly drifted across the room until they landed on Anakin's hovering presence in the doorway. The warmth in them did not change; clearly, the Chancellor was expecting him, and Anakin felt his heart thumping in his chest. This was it. This was his chance. He was doing this for Padme.

His feet refused to respond until Palpatine spoke again. "Ah, I have a special visitor. If you all will kindly excuse us for a moment…" The senators and young girl all bowed and backed out of the room, murmuring among themselves and casting suspicious looks at Anakin as they squeezed by.

He heard Ask Aak whisper to another politician, "Why does he even let the Jedi near him? He's too trusting for his own good." Anakin snorted, and the senator glared at him. The group filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.

From his nearly supine place on the wide bed, Palpatine called out, "Anakin, my dear boy, I am glad to see you recovered from last night. Although I must say, you look restless."

Anakin approached and stood on the left side, shifting from foot to foot and pondering with amazement this creature that appeared so at home in any situation. He did not appear nervous or worried at all. "How can you act like nothing has changed?" he finally asked, keeping his voice low and tight.

"Nothing has."

Anakin blinked, and then erupted. "Of course it has! I know who you are now! I know what you've done!"

"And I have been here all along," Palpatine rejoined, almost cheerfully. "Do not fear that you will be overheard here; this room is quite secure. Anyway, I hid a name and title only for my own protection, Anakin. I am still Palpatine. I am still Chancellor of this Republic. I still only have the best interests of the galaxy at heart."

"You have a unique way of showing it, what with a devastating war and all," Anakin growled, and the older man sighed in longsuffering patience.

"We've been over this. Change is necessary from time to time, and change is mostly unpleasant. Would you call a tidal wave evil? Or a forest fire?"

"No, but those are natural occurrences."

"And I am not? Anakin, please use the head I know you have. The Force is natural, and so are the Sith. It is the Jedi who are unnatural, seeking to cling to the status quo, unwilling to take the plunge and evolve. The forest fire devours debris and makes room for new and healthier growth. The tidal wave reshapes the shore it reaches. This is not evil." Palpatine serenely folded his hands on top of the white sheet and eyed Anakin.

"You play with lives, not dirt and trees," Anakin protested softly, but he realized that his words were half-hearted at best. Palpatine was right that the Senate was corrupted and useless. Even the Jedi had been affected by what he had seen and experienced tonight.

Palpatine was saying, "I seek the natural cycle of life. The Jedi aim to twist the worlds to their own fanatical sense of right and wrong. Move beyond the dogma, Anakin, and realize that for the greater good, sacrifices must be made."

Anakin stared back, feeling the despair and confusion and even mourning wash over him and be replaced by a cold determination. "I have. I'm letting you live, Chancellor. On one condition."

"Oh?"

He was doing this for Padme. "You have to teach me how to stop death."

"Ah." Palpatine nodded slowly. "Now we come to it."

"Yes, and I want the truth."

Palpatine glanced away, his gaze holding on a small oxygen tank. A long moment of silence stretched between them. He spoke without looking at the Jedi, "Truth isn't so easy sometimes. In fact, the truth can be quite frightening. Do you understand what you are asking? Do you love this person enough to look to the Sith for guidance? Your Jedi friends would not be pleased."

Anakin suddenly and loudly cursed, drawing Palpatine's wide-eyed attention back to him. "I don't care about the Council. I want your knowledge, and I'll let your little secret out if you don't show me!"

A slow blink, and then, "Good."

"Good?" Anakin felt himself thrown off balance by the swift reply.

"Good," Palpatine repeated and smiled faintly. "You are willing, and that is all that matters. But I will need something from you in return."

Anakin tensed. "What could you possibly want from me?"

The Chancellor studied his face before answering. "If you demand my honesty, then I request yours. Be honest with yourself, first and foremost. Think for yourself. Make your own decisions. I will respect that, as I always have."

A small voice in his head whispered, _and strangely enough, he always has. _But Anakin was still suspicious. "You want me to be honest? That's it? Funny thing for you to ask."

Palpatine bequeathed a toothless smile on him. "A 'funny' thing for you to get self righteous about, considering the nature of your request."

Instantly, the defenses rose, and Anakin snapped, "What are you saying?"

"Truly, Anakin?" The sly smile remained plastered on his face. "I know you, and I know why you are here. You are here because of _her_."

No…Feeling as though his feet had been swept out from under him, Anakin gasped out, "How… How did you know?"

Palpatine sighed and shifted slightly on the bed, the brief, pained grimace on his face washed away by a longsuffering pensiveness. "Anakin…it is only obvious. I have observed the two of you together for many years, and the – dare I say it – _natural_ love between you is plain to see. I must congratulate you now since I could not before. She is a worthy match to you."

And suddenly, Anakin was small again, soaking in the praises of the benevolent Supreme Chancellor with ridiculous satisfaction. Suddenly the fact that Palpatine was a Sith Lord bent on destroying the galaxy was a small issue compared to the idea that yes, someone thought his marriage – and his life – a good thing. Vindication was sweet, and he almost grinned. "Yes, she is, and I will do anything to save her."

Palpatine clasped his hands together gently. "That may be what is required. And I will do what I must to restore this galaxy to greatness. Now that we have established mutual secrets and goals, we must see about addressing them."

Anakin froze as an ugly thought entered his mind. Palpatine knew about his marriage, and the Jedi did not. His confident words to Padme about controlling Palpatine came back to him in a sickening rush. Was he holding a krayt dragon by the tail after all? "Wait, are you trying to blackmail me now?"

Palpatine's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Blackmail?" he exclaimed. "Good heavens, no, Anakin! I know it would be disastrous should the Jedi find out about your marriage, for they are not so understanding. I am here to help you, not hinder you."

_I don't know if I can trust him. But besides Padme, who else? And maybe, if you can both keep a secret, this can still work. I could turn him in if he acts up. He knows this._ Anakin took a deep breath and decided. "I guess. But if you try anything, I will go to the council." He thought of Padme and added, "And I want you to quit manipulating the war too. If I find out that General Grievous is making any sudden moves on your orders, I'll tell so fast that you'll be in Jedi custody before you realize. We're going to end this war, and you're not going to drag it out any further."

Palpatine appraised him. "You have been thinking about this. Commendable. Very well then. Your terms are significantly harsher than my own, but I think it a fair trade. There is nothing worse than existing without knowing who you are, and who you can be, although I must warn you that General Grievous is not a patient fighter. He will likely move on his own if he lacks direction."

Anakin scowled. "The Jedi will keep that monster busy enough."

"Of course," Palpatine shrugged and pointed to one of the large hospital chairs. "Make yourself comfortable, because we have much to discuss. The art of saving one from death is a difficult prospect, but my master made great strides before his own untimely end. Let us begin with the future…"

"My dreams." And Anakin found himself obeying, sliding into the seat with practiced ease.

"Clearly, your visions are of great concern. I have always appreciated the art of looking into the future, Anakin. By looking into the future without fear, we are able to prepare and plan for the singular path that we most desire," Palpatine's expression was thoughtful and hungry at the same time. A few days ago, Anakin would have been frightened.

Instead, he felt a thrill of inexplicable excitement run through him. Master Yoda had told him to let go of his dreams and to give up the attachments in his life. As if! Here now, Palpatine was offering him a chance to keep his attachments and even control them! "How?" he asked, eager as a young Padawan.

Palpatine pressed one bandaged hand to his own chest and intoned, "We start by searching within ourselves, Anakin. Think of _your _visions. Think of what _you _desire, of what you, and only you, want. Face your visions, my boy, and learn what they are telling you. Knowledge is power."

To look within for answers…to ignore the whispers of the Living Force around him and attempt to influence future events… his Jedi masters would be appalled. Yet he really did not care. The attempt to focus on his passionate desires felt both bizarre and soothingly normal. Here he would find control at last over the wildly raging currents of his life. A little control…really, was it too much to ask?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Curse the Naboo who thought up the extensive ritual of dressing for the day! Padme found herself running down the hallway to the medical center, her breath coming in short wheezes. She had to reach Anakin and get him out before the Council arrived! Who knew what might happen if the Council tried to arrest Palpatine in front of Anakin. The child within kicked at her as if to say, "Hurry, hurry!" She put a hand on her stomach to settle it, and felt the comforting warmth.

"Hold on there, Senator Amidala!" Someone called out, and she spotted Senator Fema Baab standing by the lift. The beautiful woman hurried to her side and offered her arm. "Whatever is the matter? You look like you've run over here all the way from 500 Reublica."

"Urgent business with one of the Jedi, Senator," Padme gasped out, grateful for the baggy clothing of her office. Soon though, her condition would be impossible to hide. Already wild rumors were running through the Senate.

Fema's eyes widened. "One of the Jedi? Oh, you mean Anakin Skywalker. He seems to be all right, I suppose. But be careful, Senator. All your Jedi friends may not be so friendly after all."

Padme felt her mouth hanging open again. She was doing a lot of that lately. "What do you mean?"

Fema looked surprised at her ignorance. "Well, many senators never much liked the Jedi. I was impartial myself, since the Chancellor is so supportive. But since last night…well, you'll have to come to the special Senate meeting early this evening. We're voting on an inquiry into the Jedi Order."

"An inquiry? But why? What have they done?" Padme demanded.

Fema leaned in to a conspiratorial closeness, their heads nearly bumping together as they slowly walked. "That's what we'd like to know. There is some evidence that the Jedi may have been involved in this plot to assassinate the Chancellor."

"That's not possible," Padme shook her head. _These rumors are out of hand. They don't know about Sly Moore. The Jedi are being framed by your idol, can't you see? _But Fema would never see.

"I know you've always supported them, my dear. It was shocking to many of us, but we'll discover the truth. Will you be at the vote tonight?" Fema had guided her over to the elevators and now looked impatient to rejoin the distant group of senators. Padme waved her on.

"I'll try. I have to get some answers first."

When she arrived on the trauma level, an instant escort of Red Guards appeared. Padme shuddered. She had never liked the blood red symbols of power, which were too intimidating and austere for the Republic. She shook even worse when she realized that the Senate itself had made provisions for Palpatine to have his personal guard.

Surrounded by red, Padme began to truly allow herself to think. Palpatine was the Sith Lord who was running the entire war. There was no proof beyond the words of Anakin, which was more than sufficient for her, but if the Senate was expected to choose only between the word of the distrusted Jedi and their beloved Supreme Chancellor, there would be no contest. Democracy itself supported the dictator with open arms.

And she was the instrument to put him in power. She remembered the day of the Vote of No Confidence, remembered the moment Palpatine had whispered to her of Valorum's weakness. The memories made her weak at the knees. The man she had once considered a friend and mentor was a Sith Lord who sought to destroy everything she loved, including her husband.

The choice to betray Anakin's confidence had been overwhelmingly difficult. But she knew two things – no good would come of Anakin's attempts to control Palpatine, and she trusted Obi-Wan. The latter truth was a great shock and comfort alike. If anyone could figure this mess out, it was him. Obi-Wan had heard her out in stunned silence, and then he had agreed that, yes, Anakin needed to be removed from the equation before the Council moved. Padme had the best chance of doing that, and she was here for that very reason. The Jedi Master had given her several hours to prepare and convince Anakin to leave the hospital. "His allegiances are deeply muddled, Padme," Obi-Wan had told her. "For the safety of us all, he can't be there when we come for Palpatine."

She agreed, but for more personal reasons. She wanted Anakin as far away from Palpatine as she could get him. The snake already held too much sway over her love. He was playing Anakin's fears with all the finesse of a master puppeteer. He was using all of them. The anger that boiled within her drove her on, all the way to the door of the trauma unit where her Red Guard escort stopped her.

"Senator Padme Amidala here to see the Jedi Knight Skywalker," one announced to the guard at the door, who disappeared into the darkened room. He reappeared moments later and nodded to her, motioning her in.

It was darker here, and not necessarily because of the lighting. The atmosphere was oppressive even to her. It was probably psychological, Padme realized, knowing what she did. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she spotted her husband sitting in a chair beside the hospital bed, beside the benign monster who was smiling at her, straight white teeth glinting in the dim lighting.

Padme shivered. Anakin's eyes were closed, and he appeared to be deep in meditation. His breathing was slow, and his hands were folded in his lap. He exuded a terrifying and dark confidence, so at odds with his previous panic. Padme felt a protective viciousness rising in her soul. "Jedi Skywalker? May I speak with you?" she demanded, striding forward to the end of the bed.

Anakin's eyes shot open and he launched out of the chair. "Padme! What are you doing here?"

She shook her head and did not step into his outstretched arms. "I came to talk to you, General Skywalker. What's going on here?"

Palpatine finally spoke. "Anakin is merely searching for the root of his problem, my lady. Peaceful contemplation of the future does us all good."

She wanted to smack the smile off his face. He looked so genial, so open and innocent that the evilness of which her mind was aware grew strong and suffocating. But he was still Chancellor, and his personal guard lurked just outside the room. She forced a stiff curtsy and a cold smile in return. Two could play this game. "Supreme Chancellor, I need to speak with Anakin privately."

"Not right now, Padme," Anakin protested. "He's teaching me to look into the future, to face my visions. I think it's working! I'm not so afraid anymore." She saw the fierce joy in his eyes, and it nearly broke her heart. And why was he speaking so openly before Palpatine?

"Anakin…" she gasped, casting a fearful glance at the Sith. The older man merely folded his hands and waited.

Anakin approached and took her arm. "He already knows about us, Padme."

She jerked loose. "He what?"

Palpatine added quietly, "Your marriage, my dear, is not easily concealed. Not anymore, at least," and he glanced at her middle. Padme curled her arms around her child, feeling a chill run through her entire body. "But to be fair, I knew shortly after the Battle of Geonosis, and now that the air is clear between us, I think we can come to a better understanding," the Chancellor continued.

Padme glared at him. "No, there can be no understanding. I want to leave, and my husband is coming with me."

"Is he?" Palpatine's brow furrowed in mock concern. "I should be very surprised."

"He is," she gritted out. "Anakin, please, come away with me. I must talk to you. We're in danger here."

When Anakin spoke, his words carried an unusual harshness. "Padme, we can't leave. I told you, I won't let anything happen to you. We're safe here. The Chancellor and I have already come to an agreement. I won't tell the Council about him, and he will help me save you. He won't even interact with the Separatists. That's what you wanted."

_You don't have anything on him at all. _A pool of dread solidified in her stomach. Making a deal with a Sith was paramount to madness, if the Jedi histories were correct. "This won't work!"

"Padme, I can save you here!" Anakin insisted. "Who would you rather talk to? The Jedi? The Jedi won't help us."

Padme pointed at the Chancellor. "I don't want to be saved like this! His ways will only corrupt us and our love, Anakin. Why can't you see that?"

His face became set in stone. "After what I have learned of the Jedi in the past few weeks, I would say the two are comparable. Lying, deceit, a willingness to murder in cold blood. At least _he _admits it." He thrust one hand at the bed where Palpatine was silently and solemnly observing the argument.

Padme kept trying, desperation pushing her on. "Anakin, we have to get out before…before something bad happens."

He cocked his head. "Nothing bad will happen, Padme. I told you, I've got this under control."

"Perhaps not…" Palpatine mused, crossing his fingers under his chin. "I believe I see what she means. She has alerted the Jedi Council to our situation."

An animal-like cry ripped itself from Anakin's throat, and the Jedi lunged forward and gripped her by the shoulders. "No! What have you done! How could you do this to us?" _How could you do this to me! _his eyes cried out. _Betrayer! _His anger and fear poured into her from the hard touch of his hands.

She blinked back a guilty rush of tears. "I had to stop this before you got hurt!"

Anakin's mechanical hand clenched tighter. She had never seen him so close to losing his self-control since Tattoine, and the thought was paralyzing. "No! No, I will not let them take him, Padme! He is the key to saving you. I've seen just a glimpse of his powers, and they are far greater than the powers of the Jedi. If anything can save you, he can. And he will teach me, Padme. I _will_ save you. I won't fail again."

Padme looked away in frustration, briefly catching a dark look from Palpatine. His eyes were cold and triumphant, fixed on her above an eerily calm and sympathetic smile. _I have him now, you poor wretch_, the sickly blue eyes seemed to mock, _and you can do nothing about it._

_Oh yes? _Her fight renewed, her protectiveness returning, Padme scowled at him and returned her attention to Anakin. "Then I will stay here, with you."

"No, Padme. It will be dangerous." He was firm, unwilling to back down. Well, so was she.

"Especially for a woman in her position," Palpatine added unhelpfully, because now Padme saw that Anakin was thinking of his visions. The Jedi grew pale with fear.

Padme lost her temper and exploded, "Look, you slimy snake! You have nothing over us, nothing! I don't care if the Jedi find out about us. I don't care if we have to leave this planet, and I absolutely don't care about any ridiculous dreams!"

Palpatine took her wrathful tirade and pointing finger without blinking. If anything, the pale gaze lost all emotion except an amused patience. "Very self-sacrificial of you, my dear, and entirely admirable sentiments," he sighed, his voice mild, as though truly worried for her well-being.

"I hope the Council puts you far, far away and throws away the key," she snarled. "You've tried to ruin us all. Well, it won't work."

Palpatine ignored her, turning to Anakin. "A worthy match, but very stubborn. She does not appear to desire saving."

"I am going to save her," Anakin repeated.

Palpatine looked thoughtful. "And now that the Jedi know of my existence, how do you intend to _persuade_ me to help?"

"I…I…don't…" Padme watched her husband's head and shoulders fall and his mouth open in horrified and silent protest, and she knew that her actions had removed what little control Anakin had over the situation. When she looked past him to the Chancellor, Palpatine was grinning almost ear to ear, a most undignified and entirely insane expression. He winked at her! But when Anakin looked up as well, the grin disappeared in an instant, sliding into a sad smile.

"I'm wounded, Anakin, that you think so little of our long friendship to resort to blackmail. Regardless, I am always here to help you, and so I will," Palpatine sighed. "That is, if I can convince the Jedi to let me live through our philosophical differences."

Padme was stunned at the sudden change in his persona. It frightened her greatly to realize that this was the true Palpatine, shifting between forms and personalities as easily as the queen changed the royal clothing. She tugged at Anakin's arm, but he remained where he was, staring at Palpatine and mesmerized by the smooth words.

Finally, the young Knight came to a decision and squared his broad shoulders. "I understand, Chancellor, and if you can save her, I will always be grateful. I will stay here with you and speak to the Council."

Palpatine glanced at Padme, drawing the corners of his thin mouth down in deep concern. "But you were right. I sense that it may be quite dangerous."

"Yes," Anakin looked at her as well, and she was disturbed by the frustrated glint in his fevered blue eyes. He took her by the arm and began to pull her to the door. As they reached the frame, he leaned down. "Padme, I love you. I'm doing this for you. Please, don't interfere any further." And before she could understand what he meant to do, she was seized firmly by two of the guards and nearly carried to the lifts.

"Anakin!" she cried out, but he had turned and gone back into the room, shutting the door behind him.

**Longest chapter yet! Anakin has had a taste of Dark Side learning and appears to be choosing his path now, whether he'll admit it or not. Will he ever come to his senses? Will Padme take this setback lying down? Will Ms. Medici ever be admitted to Coruscant Plaza Law College? Wait…what?**

**Is it weird that I feel more comfortable writing from Palpatine's POV than Padme's? **

**I have a poll running on my profile to choose Palpatine's first name for future childhood fics. Check it out and vote!**

**Also, a new one-shot titled **_**The Will to Power**_**, featuring Yoda and Palpatine in a between-scenes moment in ROTS. **

**Read and review! And thanks for enjoying the story and all the favorites and alerts! **


	17. It's A Madhouse! A Madhouse!

o

"For the Order and the Republic, I will give anything and everything, including my life." – Mace Windu

Chapter Seventeen

Coruscant

Jedi Temple

Morning

The last semi-normal morning of Mace Windu's life began with several hours of meditation. Beside the tall Korun master sat his diminutive green companion, Master Yoda, recently returned from the front lines of Kashyyyk. The green-skinned Jedi was completely quiet but for the soft intake of breath, his small chest unnaturally still. How Mace wished he could sooth away the worries of the mortal world like Master Yoda, but Mace was a man of action and purpose. He could not simply sit still while his Republic struggled to survive.

Yet he had no choice but to sit still while Obi-Wan watched Anakin. One of Yoda's long ears twitched as the ancient Jedi sensed his comrade's displeasure. "Hard to meditate this morning, it is," Yoda finally croaked, breaking the long meditative silence. "Seized by dark thoughts, are you?"

Mace gladly gave up his half-hearted attempts to study the turbulent flow of the Living Force and turned to his best friend. "I am, and they have only gotten worse since the explosion of Dark Side energies last night…as though…something has been released."

"Mmmmm, something powerful, yes?" Yoda appeared to wilt on his chair. He showed weakness to few individuals, and Mace was one of them. "Felt it, I did, while in Kashyyyk, and like nothing I have felt before, it was."

Mace stood up and stretched. "Nor I. I wish you could have been here directly afterward, my friend. Anakin Skywalker is withholding information from the Council, and I sense great fear in the boy."

Yoda finally opened his large eyes and gave him a reproving look. "And sense great fear in the Council, _I _do. Told me of last night, Master Kolar did, and disappointed, am I. Acted in haste we have, and uncertain of the outcome we are. Driven away, young Skywalker is being. The Dark Side clouds everything."

"Worse than before," Mace admitted, refusing to meet the stern gaze. Yoda could make him feel like a wayward learner so quickly. "I agree that we should not have pushed the issue like we did, but time is of the essence, Master Yoda. The entire Jedi Order and the Republic are at risk."

"Then at risk, they must be," Yoda sighed, and his ears lowered. "But to give up the very reasons we are, folly it is, Master Windu. Know I do that you wish to protect your Republic, but careful you must be that grip the Republic too tightly, you do not. Break, it may."

"It will break if we do nothing, under the control of this evasive Sith Lord," Mace gritted out, and immediately added, "I'm sorry, Master Yoda, but I can't let him destroy all that we have worked for."

"Can't? Can't?" Yoda slowly slid to his clawed feet and joined Mace at the window, leaning heavily on his gimmer stick. "Power to stop him, perhaps we have. But this recent darkness is great, and caution we must use."

"That's why Obi-Wan is carefully monitoring his former padawan," Mace reminded him. "And today, we will be speaking with the Chancellor to ascertain his version of the night's events."

"Surrounding the Chancellor, darkness is," Yoda tapped his finger on his cane in thought. "Thought it time to make his presence known and take power, the dark lord did?"

Mace shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. How could he have failed unless Skywalker was there defending the Chancellor? Skywalker claimed to be knocked unconscious for most of the night. And even then, this was a Master of the Dark Side. I can't imagine him going down so easily."

Yoda nodded. "A mystery it is, and the reason for caution." He opened his mouth to say more, but something on the ground in front of the Temple far below caught his attention. "More interesting, this day has become."

"What?" Mace stepped up beside him and squinted in the bright morning light. "What is that?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Obi-Wan spent the hours he had given Padme driving in aimless circles around the governmental district of Coruscant, barely heeding the other drivers and gathering insults as a result. But none of that mattered because the worst fears of the entire Order had been realized. Count Dooku had not been bluffing in his boasts on Geonosis.

And what disturbed his normally calm mind more was the fact that Anakin did not trust him enough to warn him about a Sith Lord. The blow was painful. Too painful. He should not have the aching hole in his chest where his heart should be. He was a Jedi…

Like Mace Windu, who loved his Republic. Like Anakin, who loved his wife. Perhaps forming no attachments was a pipedream for every Jedi except the venerable Yoda.

Anakin…

Did Anakin know that Obi-Wan only wanted the best for his dear friend? He had been certain before tonight, but no longer. The bond had been so deep, even only months ago. Was it the Council's request to spy on the Chancellor, another dear friend? Or perhaps the bond had only appeared deep. Perhaps Anakin had never fully trusted him.

Oh, Anakin… what have you done?

His mental distress would be obvious to any fellow Jedi, and he needed time to compose himself, so Obi-Wan directed his speeder down to the front public entrance of the Temple. He parked it in the third row of speeders and dragged his feet in a feeble effort to delay the inevitable. How did one break such news to the Council?

He was so ingrained in the heavy weight of his thoughts that he was surprised to be greeted by a ripe red vegetable upon his arrival at the Temple stairs, but Obi-Wan soon had larger concerns. As he wiped the oozing mess from his robes, he heard a hiss behind him, "Be careful where yer going, slime!"

Obi-Wan whirled, instinctively fast and looking for the threat. It came in the form of a weathered Bothan with a murderous gleam in his eyes. "Pardon?" he asked, backing up slowly and hovering one hand over the hilt of his lightsaber. The Bothan was probably drunk and fairly harmless, but he remained cautious.

The Bothan spat on the ground. "Shoulda known better that to trust the stinkin' Jedi!"

"What are you talking about?"

A small Rodian moved closer on his other side, and for the first time, Obi-Wan noticed a tightly gathered group of angry citizens to his right. The Rodian wheezed out a laugh, "Aw, look at 'im, playing the innocent, like he don't know what his friends been up to."

Friends? This was not making any sense. "Please, I'm certain this is all a misunderstanding."

"It was a mistake to ever let your lot near the Chanc'ler, that's what," the Bothan snapped.

"The Chancellor? Please, I don't understand – " The Bothan made a sudden move forward as though to grab Obi-Wan, and he quickly raised the hilt of his lightsaber in a warning. The Bothan froze, unwilling to challenge the deadly weapon, but his dark eyes remained fixed on the Jedi Master.

"Well, understand this, Jedi. We don't want yer kind here anymore. You been playing us for fools long enough," he proclaimed.

Small cheers erupted from the motley crowd. "Get out of here, Jedi!" "Run back to your little temple!" "Stay away from us!" The shouts were muddled and hateful. Obi-Wan staggered mentally in the face of such resentment and wondered at the cause. Did these creatures somehow think the Jedi were responsible for the demolition of the Opera House? If they only knew what he did…

When he noticed a Devaronian winding back his red arm to launch another vegetable, Obi-Wan sounded the retreat and beat a hasty track up into the Temple. He was instantly greeted by the elderly librarian, Jocasta Nu, who took him by the shoulder and steered him to a visitor's bench.

"Master Kenobi! Are you all right?" she touched his arm. "What happened out there?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm…not certain. Master Nu, I'm fine, really. But I must speak with the Council. It's urgent."

"Of course…" She turned to one of the welcome desk staff and spoke in low tones. "Alert the Council Room that Obi-Wan –"

"Obi-Wan, what happened down there?" Jocasta's instructions were cut short by the call. The shaken Jedi glanced up to see both Mace Windu and Yoda striding in his direction. Well, Mace was striding; Yoda was gliding on his hover chair. Both masters had unusually strong anxiety in their auras, though neither one showed it on their faces.

Obi-Wan sighed and stood from the bench. "Good to see you too, Master Windu. I'm…not entirely certain, but I think the poor creature may have been drunk. He seemed to think that we are the ones who tried to kill the Chancellor last night."

"What?" Mace was floored, rearing his head back and blinking in shock, though Obi-Wan noted with black amusement that this was only the beginning of the day's surprises. He glanced over his shoulder out the main doors of the Temple and noticed that the group of protesters had grown.

"It appears that he's not the only one either," he mused.

Yoda also stared out the doors, his large green eyes catching on an offensive makeshift sign. "How did the rumor start, I wonder?"

"I have an idea…"

Mace scowled. "What do you mean, Obi-Wan?"

"I mean we should quickly find somewhere more private to speak." Obi-Wan replied, and the three, almost as one, thought of the small communications closet off to the right of the main hall. The Jedi masters left a curious Jocasta behind and squeezed themselves into the small room. They barely fit.

Mace leaned closer still. "What is this all about? What have you found out?"

_You really don't want to know. _"The thing we feared most has come to pass. The Senate is controlled by the Sith Lord, the one we were tracking."

Yoda's ears pricked up. "Found this out from Skywalker, did you?"

_And that you will never know_, Obi-Wan mentally promised."Erm, yes… But that is not important. What is important is that we now know our enemy."

Mace read the despair in his eyes. "Then it is as we guessed? He is in Palpatine's inner circle."

Obi-Wan snorted. "Oh, worse than that. He _is_ Palpatine."

Mace stared blankly. Yoda clenched his own eyes tightly shut. The silence roared in Obi-Wan's ears. _Say something! Wake me up from this nightmare, please. Tell me what to do…You are the wise ones here._

"Inconceivable…" Mace breathed.

Perhaps it was because Obi-Wan had known for several hours, but his patience was wearing thin. "I think we had better start conceiving. I believe he is trying to influence Anakin to protect him."

Without warning, Mace slammed his hand against the wall. "This is… We must take action! He must be killed immediately!"

Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open. "Killed? Without arresting him? Without trial?"

Mace glared, unused to being challenged. "The courts belong to him, body and soul. It would be a mockery to charge him formally."

For the first time since the fateful revelation, Yoda spoke. "Careful of your initial reaction, you must be. If attack the Chancellor openly we do, then openly deny us, the Senate will. Disband us, they could."

The Korun master snapped, "The Chancellor may already be disbanding us! Or had you forgotten that he is Supreme Commander now? I will take that chance, Master Yoda. Let me go with a few others, and we can take the blame if the attempt fails. The rest of the Order doesn't need to know."

Obi-Wan tried to imagine a Jedi assassination attempt and shuddered at the images that came to mind. "Master Windu! What you're suggesting is assassination of the Chancellor. Even though he is the Sith Lord, we have no proof of his crimes. He was put into office by the Senate, and most of them do not believe the Sith exist. Your actions would destroy the reputation of the Order and possibly finish us."

Mace grunted. "And what? You wish to arrest him?"

Obi-Wan was surprised by the level of anger he was detecting from Mace, and instinctively he tried to deflate it. "Formal charges, however useless, may give us time to formulate a strike against him." _And give me time to speak with Anakin. _

"And formal charges will give him a chance to run to ground or strike against us," Mace argued back.

Obi-Wan thought of Padme and Bail Organa. "We have friends in the Senate we could use for support," he offered softly.

"He has more. And if we kill him now, we can take control of the Senate directly."

Yoda broke into their stalemate at last. "A dark thought, that is, Master Windu. Like him, the Jedi could become with such power. Serve the Senate, we always have. A subversion of our original purpose, a forced political takeover would be."

"Another chance, Master Yoda. One I am willing to take, yet again."

A glint of hardened steel entered the small being's crackly voice. "Willing yet, I am not. But together a Council we make not. A decision by all of us, this must be."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Council became a frightening mess of emotion and fear when Obi-Wan shared the dire information. Oh, not on the outside. On the outside, every Jedi master appeared calm and collected, as though Obi-Wan were informing them of the afternoon's meal schedule. But Obi-Wan had always been sensitive to the true emotions surrounding him, and this morning he sensed confusion and apprehension like never before.

The Council swiftly divided in its opinions, half siding with Yoda's pleas for caution and careful maneuvering. The ancient Jedi had drawn attention to the fact that Palpatine had hidden himself so long and so well, that even now the Jedi might be being drawn into a trap. To act rashly could be to hasten the destruction of the Republic. Instead, Yoda suggested that the Jedi work with the knowledge to influence the Senate and at the same time double their attempts to uncover and expose the Chancellor's dubious origins.

The other half sided with Mace Windu, who advocated a quick and forceful removal of the Chancellor. He argued the danger of leaving Palpatine in control of the Senate. After all, he was the enemy of everything the Jedi and Republic stood for. Allowing a Sith to remain free would be disastrous at best.

Obi-Wan watched the heated words flying across the Council Room and was dismayed to see these great beings reduced to such indecision. The Negotiator rose in his heart and he offered a new plan. The Jedi could work through the Senate to have Palpatine put under investigation. The investigation could be proposed by the weighty Loyalist Committee, most of whom were opponents of Palpatine's executive powers. During investigation, the Chancellor would be unable to act on his powers. The move would be perfectly legal and would cripple the Sith's ability to freely operate while the Jedi worked to reveal his true nature.

Mace Windu argued vehemently against the plan, but several of his supporters were swayed. Yoda looked a long time at Obi-Wan, both as impressed and convinced as the little alien could be. So were his supporters. In the end, Obi-Wan's plan was adopted by a three-fourths majority, though Mace promised in the heat of the moment that he would not let Palpatine harm anyone else again, no matter what. Obi-Wan studied him and mourned; the Jedi Master too often walked the line of the Dark Side. Too much had been required of this great man.

To cancel their meeting with the Chancellor this morning would appear suspicious in light of recent events, the Council decided. They appointed Yoda, Obi-Wan, Mace, and Kit Fisto to make the journey and feel out the opposition, certain that four masters would prove adequate for any surprises the Sith might throw at them. Once they had a feel for the Chancellor's plans, they would implement their own to stop him.

But as Obi-Wan climbed into the Republic gunship that would take them to the Senate hospital, his eyes swept over the growing crowd of shouting protesters far below, and he was not so certain.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Coruscant

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Midday

Palpatine studied the surveillance footage of the medcenter, gratified to see that the troops had been increased at all entry points as directed. Clone troopers were everywhere, well-armored and put on high alert. He felt the presence of the approaching Jedi, as he was no longer required to hide his own Force presence. He allowed the Dark Side to gorge itself briefly on the pall of fear that surrounded the Jedi ship. The feeling was refreshing and invigorating. He had waited a long time for this triumphant moment, and although the situation was less than ideal, it was more than satisfactory.

Palpatine glanced around the large medical room and went through his mental checklist.

An indignant Ask Aak. Yes.

An outspoken Edcel Bar Gane. Useful.

A fawning Fema Baab. Naturally.

A nervous Mas Amedda, complete with twisting lethorns. Check.

A slimy duo of Lot Dodd and Halli Burtoni. Good.

An impressionable Pa'ad Dmiddo. Yes.

A corpulent Orn Free Taa. Yes.

A fearful Chosen One. Perfect.

Anakin Skywalker had withdrawn upon the arrival of the Senators and Mas Amedda, but Palpatine could feel his indecision boiling against the outside of his own obsidian soul. The boy hovered at the edge of the Dark Side, toying with a power that he did not understand, tempting the oily blackness in close with his greedy desires and then dancing away in fear of what he courted.

Palpatine suspected that today would be a good day to push him closer to complete marriage with the Dark Side. The Jedi Masters' fear – deliciously suffocating even from this distance – would feed Anakin's own until he was forced into action. And Palpatine would always be there to offer him a choice.

He watched Skywalker pace back and forth across the expansive room, only half-listening to the droning conversation of his supporters. They stood and sat in a semicircle around his bedside once again, respectfully distant and attendant to his wishes to think alone. Or "rest," as he had put it, though he thought it impossible to be any more alert. The physical pain and exhaustion of the night were a distant shadow on his mind as he focused on the coming hours.

"I am certain the motion will be passed without incident," Ask Aak was lecturing Orn Free Taa. "The mysteries surrounding this reprehensible attempt on the Chancellor's life are too condemning of the Jedi Order. The investigations this morning have already produced seventeen witnesses who saw an individual using the Force to escape the Opera House after it had stabilized."

"Goodness!" Taa flapped his arms and jowls helplessly. "But if the Jedi are moving against the Senate, why would they stop now? Why would they be so careless to show themselves?"

Lott Dod leaned his slimy face close to the other two. "Arrogance," he snarled. "What else? They didn't know they would fail to kill the Chancellor. It's the same arrogance that leads them to accuse the Trade Federation of wrongdoing every time something happens in this galaxy."

Palpatine grinned inwardly when he heard that, but he turned his somber gaze away from Skywalker and onto the Neimoidian. He spoke softly so that the young Jedi would not hear. "Please, Senator Dod, we do not fully understand the situation. The Jedi have always told me that there are other organizations who utilize the Force."

"With all respect, Excellency," Lott Dod groveled. "That strikes me as a convenient excuse to allow them to do whatever they please. I have always doubted their claims of the Sith conspiracy."

"Hmm," Palpatine remained noncommittal. Of all beings in the galaxy, Dod was one of the few who did indeed "believe" in the Sith. The slimy alien was well aware of Nute Gunray's dealings with Darth Sidious. This was what one got when one concocted webs of deceit: a senator lying to the face of the very man whose existence he denied but who he hoped would overthrow the Senate. A black comedy called life.

"Well, a thorough investigation should clear it up," Fema Baab moved away from Amedda and approached the bed. "Are you certain you're up to entertaining Jedi, Excellency? Especially in light of these circumstances. How are you feeling?"

Palpatine was aware that Skywalker had tensed and frozen in his pacing at the mention of the Jedi. "I have felt better, I admit. But I have absolute faith in the Jedi, Senator Baab." _Absolute faith that they will come walking in that door to make complete idiots of themselves. _

When the Jedi were announced at the door, Palpatine pulled a humble smile over his face and beckoned them in. Mace Windu, Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Kit Fisto, all looking distinctly uncomfortable and tense, stepped into the large trauma unit and bowed. This surprised Palpatine, who had half-expected the Jedi to come in swinging madly, screaming about dangerous Sith Lords. It was for this reason that Red Guards and Anakin Skywalker filled the room as well.

"Greetings, Master Jedi," he called out and received solemn stares in return. Undaunted, he smiled broadly. "Please, my friends, come in."

Finally, Kenobi took several steps in and bowed again. "Chan…Chancellor," he choked out. "We hope we're not inconveniencing you."

"Not at all," Palpatine cheerily rejoined even as he wondered at their muted appearance. What were his mortal enemies attempting now? "I had hoped to speak with you when I had recovered from the attack." He watched as Kenobi sought out his former padawan, but Skywalker refused to acknowledge his master. _All for the best. _

As he studied the small group of Jedi, Palpatine searched for their weakest link and found it in Mace Windu. The Jedi master was a turbulent ocean of frustration and anger. Negotiation with a Sith Lord must be intolerable to him. Never one to lose a chance, Sidious slowly opened himself to the Korun master, letting the black strings of his intent dangle before him like one plays with the felines of childhood. It was all too easy to conceal parts of his presence and reveal others.

He watched Windu stiffen with the onslaught of darkness, watched the other Jedi remain ignorant of this new danger that stood beside them. He continued tempting Windu even as the other masters inquired about his health. They sang with falsehood, and he sent a current of laughter through the Force. Did they think to deceive him? Him? This would not do…no, the Jedi needed to stick to what they did best: blindly blundering white knights of justice.

So, even as he replied that his health was improving with each hour, he spoke to Windu alone. _You do not think I know? You come here with kind words, but I know you seek to overthrow me. Well, my fiendish little Jedi friend, you come too late. _

Momentarily startled that Palpatine had silently spoken to him, Windu finally replied, _We are going to stop you, monster. Your reign is over. _

In the physical world, Yoda asked him if he might supply an account of the evening's events. _Yet_ _I do not see you striking me down. Interesting…will you go through the Senate, perhaps? Master Windu, I expected better of you. _"I am not certain of what I might add to the tale. Have you spoken with Anakin yet?"

He watched Skywalker flinch at some memory at the same time that Windu tried to shove him from his mind. Encouraged, Sidious dug his claws in and held on. _Tsk, Master Windu, here I am trying to share the truth with you at last, and you do not appear willing. Well, here it is, anyway. Your Order is broken. You stand upon a facsimile of what you held dear. I am going to sweep it away like an unwanted cobweb, and you know something? Your little…Republic…is going to help me. And then, it too will be swept away. _He conjured his finest mental image of a burning, twisted Senate building and sent it straight into Windu's mind.

"No!" Windu shouted, interrupting Yoda's prattling beside him. Jedi and Senators alike turned to stare at him, startled. "No," he repeated, no longer yelling but still loud. _You will not destroy the Republic. I won't let you._ He caught Yoda's questioning eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Master Yoda, but I will not let this disease continue."

"Hold on –" Kenobi held up his hand, but Windu held up his own. Skywalker flinched.

"Acting upon my independent authority as a member of the Jedi High Council, and in the name and interests of the Galactic Senate that I serve, I am placing you under arrest, Chancellor," he intoned, creating a wave of sharp gasps and titters around the room. 

Palpatine let his mouth fall open. "On what charges?" he demanded.

"On genocide and treason, to begin!" Mace growled, his patience quickly coming to an end.

Bar Gane waved his stubby arms, his massive eyes even larger now. "Preposterous!" he gasped.

"They're the traitors, more like!" Aak squealed.

The room exploded into a cacophony of arguments as the Senators faced off with the Jedi. Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Fisto were trying to remain the peacekeepers, but seven angry senators were difficult to silence. Palpatine let the accusations grow in intensity for several more seconds, feeding on the fear and anger and subtly redirecting it toward Skywalker, who hovered on the edge on the madness. The boy was gasping for air like a drowning man tossed by alternating currents.

Finally, Palpatine was content with the discord and raised his own voice. "Please…Please! Your attention, good senators!" The shouts turned into murmurs, and the murmurs into sullen whispers. He turned to face Windu. "And what proof could possibly accompany such charges?"

Mace thrust out his hand and pointed. "The fact that you are indeed the Sith Lord!"

The whole room went dead silent. Only the disgusting squelch of Lott Dod's breathing could be heard. Skwalker barely looked to be breathing at all.

Then Palpatine barked out a sharp, derisive, disbelieving laugh. "Is that it? You accuse me of such serious crimes as these and present ancient religion as your 'proof?'" As though his words released them from a spell, the senators also burst into laughter.

One of Windu's eyes twitched. "You are Darth Sidious, and you are a menace to the Republic. That is why you are under arrest." Someone had built a fire under the normally unflappable Jedi master today, Palpatine noticed with satisfaction. The determination flowing through the warrior's Force aura was curious to him, and he stretched out with his own dark delight. He felt the two tides meet, and instead of slapping the darkness away, Windu's presence latched onto his and blackened at the edges.

_Stick to your insipid Vaapad, fool. The true darkness will devour you alive, _Palpatine thought. "I am astounded at your audacity, Master Jedi. The last time I checked our Constitution, religious discrimination was clearly forbidden, so even if I were this Sith Lord you so loathe, my affiliation would be no proof of crime."

"Or do you Jedi still think you are above the law?" Ask Aak snapped from his side.

Yoda raised a placating claw. "No, Senator. Above the law, we are not. But a great danger to your Republic, this man may be."

_Damage control, Master Yoda? I believe you may be a bit late. _

"Because the Jedi are finally being reigned in, is that it? Jealousy? Is this about our decision to appoint him Supreme Commander of our armed forces?" Aak was getting wound up, his eye stalks waving in agitated unison. "Well, get over it. The Jedi Order answers to all of us now."

Palpatine sent a wave of dark pleasure straight at Mace Windu, whose eyes narrowed with deadly intent. "If you do not recognize the authority of the Jedi Order to protect you, then I shall prove his menace." Windu stepped forward and moved toward the bed, taking out his lightsaber and igniting the brilliant purple blade. Sidious felt his heart pounding with anticipation, his folded fingers twitching with Force Lightning. He held his Guards back with a strong mental command. Now was another test for his boy and an acting performance for himself.

He straightened on the bed and allowed his eyes to grow huge in nervous terror. He felt a wave of sympathy from the Senators around him even as they quailed away from the encroaching warrior. Cowardly tools… "What are you doing?" he cried, at the same moment that Obi-Wan Kenobi shouted, "Wait!"

Windu ignored them both and turned to the Senators. "Watch him defend himself, and know that you serve no mere politician." Then he turned back and raised the sword over the Chancellor. The Senators were gibbering with fear, frozen in place, while the Red Guard swayed under Palpatine's spell.

Time slowed, and the Sith studied the expression on Windu's face even as he cried, "Stop this at once!" Fascinating. Sidious had been sure the man was bluffing, but now he knew. Windu would carry the strike through whether or not he defended. _And here I did not think they had the spines for it. Anakin, now would be the appropriate time…_

His cognition did not fail him. The Dark Side sang with frenzied pleasure through his body as the boy leapt forward. Windu slashed down and the purple blade met blue in a shower of sparks, crossed just before the Chancellor's frightened countenance. Anakin was shouting, "You can't!" over and over. Red Guards were advancing as Palpatine released his mental grip on them.

Windu was obviously stunned, staring only at the Chosen One with agony etched across his dark face. His distraction cost him, for one of the Guards thrust his Force Pike against the Jedi Master's abdomen, throwing him back from the bed, and he went down hard, lightsaber dropping from his hand and rolling away. Yoda and Fisto ignited their own lightsabers and formed a defensive position as the Guards circled them. Obi-Wan knelt beside Windu and felt for his pulse.

Skywalker stared like a dumbfounded Shaak at Windu's unconscious body, his own lightsaber hanging limp beside him. Obi-Wan stared at his former Padawan in shock, unable to speak. The Chancellor reached out to grasp his shoulder and was rewarded with a mixture of light horror and dark power. _He's finally taking his true destiny, _Sidious thrilled at the thought.

However, his own role was not yet finished. The Jedi and Guards faced off in stony silence, and the Senators were huddled around his bed behind his personal security. The tension in the room hovered at the snapping point, immensely enjoyable, but the Supreme Chancellor was the voice of reason, so he called out, "Cease this madness at once! At once, I say!"

The Red Guard instantly obeyed and pulled back their pikes. Yoda and Fisto slowly lowered their own lightsabers. Obi-Wan looked at Yoda, then stood and whispered something into Fisto's ear. Palpatine delighted in their uncertainty. They expected a magnificent trap, it was clear, but sometimes the best traps were catch-and-release. At least today, it would be so.

"I do not know what to make of this," he dropped a mournful note into the silence. "I never expected this of Master Windu. He seemed like such a true hero of the Republic…"

"They all seem like that, Chancellor!" Ask Aak had regained his squeaky voice. "But here is more proof that the Jedi are conspiring against you, and a member of the Council to boot! I've seen it myself! Have them arrested immediately!"

Fema Baab reached out and touched his shoulder. "Excellency, they are a danger to us all!"

The other Senators were nodding enthusiastically, but Palpatine shook his head and raised his hands for attention. "I am exhausted, and my heart is heavy with the revelations of this day. I must search for clarity before I can make any decisions. Please," and he was pleased when his voice trembled, "Escort them from the premises but do not harm them. The Jedi shall be confined to the Temple until an investigation can be furnished."

The Guards moved aside as clone troopers entered the room and surrounded the four Jedi, several reaching down to help a half-stunned Windu to his feet. They were none too gentle in their jostling. Yoda's eyes narrowed, and he boldly met Palpatine's gaze. The little green troll was almost angry, fancy that! "Won this day, you have, but always revealed, the truth shall be."

Palpatine wanted to smile so badly that it was painful. Instead, his mouth turned down in dejected betrayal. "I have no doubt of that, Master Yoda, but it may not be what you think."

**Both hard and fun to write, Yoda is. Poor Mace just never gets a break anymore. I actually admire the guy; he's got the guts to do what it takes, but I've always wondered what might happen if the Jedi decided on a more subtle attack plan than Mace Windu's. As a quick address to the anonymous reviewer who commented that I was making the same mistakes as Stover, it's intentional. I love his interpretation of the events in the film. :)**

**Thanks so much for all the great reviews, alerts, and favorites, folks! **

**What did you all think of this one? Read and review!**


	18. Nobody Listens in a Panic

o

"While Coruscant has always been considered the heart of the Republic, to some extent, Alderaan has been its soul." ―A Holonet dossier on Alderaan

Chapter Eighteen

Just outside Alderaan

Relief Missions Shuttle

Midday

His mission amid the bustling industrial warehouses of Delaya cut short, Sarcev Quest found it too easy to catch a ride to the closely looming planet of Alderaan. He gathered his cloak tightly around his body and watched the approach of the breathtaking planet. The soft-hearted Alderaan people put great faith in their refugee relief programs, shuffling thousands of drifters and scum through their planet on a daily basis. Such naïve kindness allowed him to pass through inspections with minimum scrutiny. To their benevolent eyes, he was just another unfortunate victim of Grievous's latest attacks on the Outer Rim systems.

With his false breathing filter firmly over his handsome face, Sarcev held no fear of being recognized. His time as a Jedi was long over, and even when part of that impeccable order, he had never figured highly in the Jedi's plans. Living with a different name, rejected as a Padawan, and sentenced to hard labor – as he saw it – in the Jedi Agricultural Corps, Sarcev could hardly believe his luck when a random inspection of the facilities led to the personal interest of the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of Naboo. Sarcev had been fifteen years old then, already having suffered two years of mediocre routine. The politician saw the boy's languishing ambition and talent and set out to rectify the situation immediately.

As Sarcev became a strong and intelligent, albeit impulsive and violent, young man, friendship blossomed, and with friendship came the truth at last, the truth of what he, Sarcev Quest, could become. In Palpatine he saw the eventual triumph of a bypassed life, a revenge of success long denied. A careful arrangement with the Chancellor's underlings permitted him to escape the monotony of his life in his seventeenth year. A tragic "accident" occurred in the Outer Rim while investigating a new bacteria-resistant oolaf grain, and the boy he had been was… regretfully… destroyed.

Now he was twenty-five, powerfully built and fully matured, drawing the looks of females from all species and flirting back with devilish charm. Palpatine indulged him, giving him the most challenging and unique missions available to his operatives. Sarcev did not abuse this trust, but nurtured it and strove to impress the Chancellor with every action. And it was working, for more and more Palpatine was leaving the details of the missions to him. More and more, Sarcev found himself loving every minute.

Like today. Sarcev leaned back in his scruffy seat as the relief shuttle rattled to a stop on the edge of Alderaan's largest city and capital, Aldera. He gazed out over the softly glowing spires of the city and pondered his choice. A target to distract Bail Organa, Palpatine had instructed. A lesser man might have settled for a government building bombing, or a strike against the beloved relief program. Sarcev had bigger, and yet much smaller, game on his mind. He felt a thrill run down his back.

He expended very little effort in mind-forcing the guards to let him pass from the relief line to the inner sanctum of the space port. Once inside the main terminal, he ducked past a massive stone relief of the famed Alderaan grasslands into the public refreshers and stripped off the ragged outer cloaks, revealing a nondescript brown garment that would ironically mark him as an incognito Jedi knight.

On exiting the space port, he took public transit to the downtown Jedi praxeum, a smaller branch of the temple of Coruscant that both reflected and rejected the architectural whims of the nature-inspired Alderaan. He walked up the steps with his hood up and breather in place, unchallenged by the steady trickle of Jedi knights and padawans. His Chancellor-provided IDs got him past the front desk with ease and a gentle welcome from the old secretary.

Sarcev headed straight for the training rooms and lifted several packages of the chalky dust used for simulating slippery surfaces. He dusted himself and exited the temple quickly, offering a cheerful wave to the old woman, who blushed when she met his bright eyes.

Using the public transport again, he made his way swiftly to the governmental housing district and located the apartment of Bail Organa. For a time, he stared up at the tall spire, readying himself for the coming melee, then he slipped into a waiting lift. It carried him up and up to a spacious reception office with a glorious vista of the surrounding mountains.

There was a gorgeous human girl behind the desk, but he had no time for dallying. A suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and a wave of his hand rendered her insensible. He pushed her limp body under the desk and accessed the security cameras from her desktop control unit, shutting them down with his own hacked codes.

Now time was of the essence. Sarcev pulled out the green lightsaber that he had secretly constructed years ago and drove it into the blast door. The smoke swirled and sparks flew, and then he was inside with a powerful blow of his boot. The apartment was artfully darkened and overflowing with soft paintings of Alderaan's natural beauty. He padded down one hall filled with portraits of Organa's forefathers, humorlessly slashing his lightsaber across the faces of several. The more personal, the better.

Up ahead, he heard shouting: the queen's personal security. And around the corner they came, blasters raised in determination. He stretched out his lightsaber and held his finger to his lips. They hesitated when they saw him and lowered their blasters in relief. A Jedi was already here. The intruders stood no chance.

"Sir!" One guard stepped forward gladly and lost his head for it. As it bounced down the hall, the others gasped and raised their weapons again, but Sarcev took advantage of their horrified confusion and ripped into them. In a matter of seconds, almost every guard was dead, lying here and there in smoking piles of uniforms and flesh. One of the guards he let pass through and watched him run from the apartment dwelling before returning to business.

When he rounded the corner to a large living room, Sarcev grinned. Queen Breha Organa stood in the center of the room, surrounded by three more guards. Sarcev strode forward. "Quick!" he barked. "The intruders have killed the others. They're stronger than we expected. Help them!"

Two of the men separated and lunged for the door. Sarcev turned to watch them go, then threw his lightsaber in a deadly arch to catch both soldiers in the back, nearly separating one from his legs. The remaining guard raised his blaster with an angry cry, but the "Jedi" pulled it from his hands with the Force, spinning it around and firing it point blank into the man's chest. He slammed to the floor with a hoarse scream.

Breha Organa stood in frozen fear, hands twisted in her loose black hair. Sarcev took a moment to breathe and admire her. The Holonet did her a disservice. _Organa really is a lucky man_, he mused. _Or was._ "My queen," he bowed gallantly, and saw her face lose all its color.

"Jedi," she stammered. "What are you doing? What have you done?"

He stepped around the dead body and moved behind her. "We have some business with you," he whispered and trailed a hand across her slender neck. He felt her trembling with impotent rage and grinned. Perhaps some fun could be had before –

Breha whirled suddenly to face him, a small snub-nose blaster in her hand. He reacted instinctively, igniting his blade and plunging it into her soft chest. She choked and dropped the blaster, gripping at him to stay on her feet and beginning to slump.

"Shouldn't have done that, love," he whispered in her inattentive ear, then deactivated the lightsaber. The queen slid into a pile on the floor, draped neatly across the body of her loyal guard, her eyes gaping with the blackness of shocked death. His handiwork done, Sarcev crossed the room to the open balcony and peered over the edge. Someone gasped behind him, and he turned to see a small handmaiden cowering over the still bodies.

"Hey there!" he grinned at the young woman. She opened her mouth to scream, and he flew across the small space and latched his hand over her mouth. "Now now, none of that," he crooned, raising the bright green blade to her throat. She froze immediately, wide brown eyes fixing on his in wordless, animal-like fear.

"Bad time for you to come wandering in here, lady," he chuckled. "We're sick and tired of you aristocratic filth running everything. You idiots in the Senate have killed thousands of us in your little war games."

For the first time, she truly registered the type of weapon held to her neck and shuddered.

Sarcev brushed its heat closer to her skin. "Yeah, yeah, you've used us for the last time. Soon the Jedi won't serve the Senate, but we'll control you. All of you, just as soon as we can kill that slippery little Chancellor of yours."

Her eyes bulged, and he lifted his hand from her mouth. "No…" she gasped. "Please, just let me go. I won't say anything. Please, I'm not a politician!"

He pulled the blade back slightly. "Now how am I going to guarantee that, hm?" And he let her death shine in his eyes before pulling her close. "I might let you live if you tell me the location of Organa's parents." She began sobbing. Sarcev waited some more. The woman slid down to a broken heap at his feet. Still, he waited, impatiently glancing around the small chamber.

Finally, it happened. His sharp ears caught the distant alarms and shouts of the Alderaan police force, quickly moving through the condominium. He raised the hilt of his sword and knocked the girl aside before leaping over the balcony's railing and rappelling down the side of the building. From there, he commandeered a hapless Bothan's speeder and fled back to the refugee docks.

His mission was a success. Palpatine would be pleased.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Coruscant

Senate Building

Afternoon

Padme wandered down the Senate halls aimlessly, her mind still back at the medical center with Anakin. As if on auto-pilot, her feet had brought her here, and she was dimly aware that an important vote would soon be underway, though what exactly she could not say. All around her, other senators pushed by as they prepared to debate and vote. Their greetings went unnoticed. She should be preparing some notes of her own…

_Anakin, why? _Why had her love turned her away? Until today, she had always feared such an action, begging Anakin to let her in, to hold her close and not let go. The sparking rage she had briefly felt for Palpatine had cooled to a dull, aching terror. The Sith – and she still struggled to wrap her thoughts around the title – had some unworldly power over her husband, something that she could not understand. What little she knew of the Sith, what the Jedi had told her, filled her heart with dread. The Republic held a poisonous serpent to its breast, unaware of the fangs slowly piercing its flesh.

Anakin's alliance to the mortal enemy of the Jedi made no sense to her. Her life was nothing compared to the rest of the galaxy, but Padme now doubted that Anakin believed that. Over the past several weeks, his possessiveness that had once been so assuring had been twisting into an obsession to keep her alive, all costs aside. Padme was petrified at the potential conclusion, but still she hoped that he would see reason. If only Obi-Wan could help her, perhaps things would turn out all right. If only she could get him away from Palpatine.

Palpatine…Even though Padme's broken center had little else to be smashed, it hurt to think about him. She had not been on the friendliest of terms with the Supreme Chancellor recently, but previously… Padme's mind cast back through the years to the first times she met the fellow Naboo. Her parents Ruwee and Jobal had been acquaintances of House Palpatine. Only Palpatine was left when Padme met him. Some past tragedy that no one ever talked about had wiped out the other household members. Any time it was referenced in his presence, Palpatine's cheerfulness would fade to a pained silence, and his companions would drop the subject. Padme remembered feeling bad when she had once pressed him for information with all the curiousness of a young girl. That was when she had been governor and princess of Theed.

His mysterious past had left a middle-aged, kind-hearted, unassuming, and humble man to become Senator of Naboo. By nature of politics, Padme knew his personality was partially a front. No one was a complete innocent, though she had thought him to come the closest. During her time as queen, he had proven to be an adept, knowledgeable politician, and his awareness of the Coruscanti political machine always impressed her. He had offered his wisdom to her, in all practicality grooming her to become a senator long before he learned that she did not intend to remain Queen.

Stupid, foolish, already used, Padme had been grateful even as she played into his hands. Now, as she staggered down the hallway, she winced at the memories. She had trusted him, even cared for him as she thought he cared for her. His mentorship had been dear, providing an advantage for the new senator. As the years passed, they began to grow distant, a matter of necessity, for his role as Supreme Chancellor constantly left him less time for tutoring and discussion. Padme knew the major point of departure: the Clone Wars.

She had gotten personally involved in his little war. They found themselves standing on opposite sides of many issues, respectfully of course. He still showed her the deference reserved for a former Queen of Naboo, and she respected him as leader of the free worlds. Yet more and more, he had found ways to "regretfully disagree" and ignore her requests. As he should, most of the Senate grumbled, uncomfortable with the idea that their Supreme Chancellor might bow to the wishes of his former queen. Naboo should not have undue influence in the galactic playing field.

_Wouldn't they be pleased, _Padme swallowed at the bitterness that loomed in her throat, _if they knew he never had deferred to my wishes? He only appeased me while he wielded me like a tool. We were all tools in his proverbial Nubian sandbox. I should have seen this. Why didn't I see this? _

Now what would he do with a tool that recognized the hand that wielded it, Padme wondered. Her life was in danger, no doubt of that. "Accidents" happened easily enough in this convoluted galaxy, even for senators. _Especially_ for senators… Her mind flipped back to the attempts on her life over the years, and she quailed to think that Palpatine may have been involved. Anakin's desperate pact to keep her might just be the end of her.

She remembered the icy calm confidence in Palpatine's pale eyes when she had tried to rescue Anakin, and Padme feared that it was too late. Those eyes had once shown her a confident future, a warm promise of hope, but now she only saw her death reflected and the end of all she loved. Anakin was under a spell. The Senate was being led by the nose. The Republic was dissolving in an endless war.

What was left? Obi-Wan was left. The Jedi were left.

"Padme? Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Padme started and turned to see the Alderaan senator, Bail Organa. Her cold heart thawed. Bail Organa was left too. If anyone could rally the Senate to its senses, Bail was the one. How she wished he might have been Chancellor instead.

"Padme? Why are you looking at me like that?" Bail's dark features twisted in amused confusion.

Padme blushed. "I'm sorry, Bail. My mind was…elsewhere."

"Well, yes." Bail waved a small datapad. "On this vote, perhaps? It's simply outrageous how quickly the Senate has turned on its protectors."

The Jedi! No! The vote to investigate them for an assassination attempt, Padme remembered. "It's not true. The Jedi had nothing to do with it, Bail."

He shook his head. "Of course not, but we've got a lot of minds to change. This whole scenario is highly suspicious. The initial reports were all over, and even now, we've got so many conflicting stories. One witness even claims General Grievous was at the opera," he offered a chuckle, but Padme did not laugh.

"Padme, it will be all right," Bail put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. "Last night was emotional, chaotic. Today we'll have a full house, and cooler heads will prevail! I'm going to highlight the confusion of the night. We can emphasize that too little is known to attack our staunchest ally."

_It might work, _Padme thought. Stall them long enough to find an alibi. Long enough to speak with the Jedi and form a plan. "I will gladly second any motion you put forward, Bail, but I'm afraid the Senate will not take me seriously anymore."

"We'll work together," Bail promised.

They walked down the long hall as Bail began to explain his plan. As they turned into the Alderaan office that connected to his senate pod, Padme registered the sound of shouts from inside. Bail's young human secretary sprang from his chair when he spotted the two, tears in his eyes.

Padme felt her heart drop into her stomach when she noticed the half dozen Senate guards gathered in the room, weapons at their sides, eyes fixed on the Alderaan senator. "What's going on?" she gasped.

"Alderaan business, Senator," One guard, an officer, stepped forward. "If you will please follow me…"

"That won't be necessary," Bail cut in, his tone brooking no argument. "She's a close friend. What's going on?"

The secretary bowed his head and pointed to a holotransmitter on his desk. "A message for you, sir. I'm afraid it's very bad news, but the guards believed that you needed to see it. I'm…I'm sorry, sir."

Bail clenched his whitening fists and stepped over the transmitter. The blue image of an Alderaan security guard flickered into existence. He looked unkempt and disordered like Padme had never seen from the usually impeccable planet. "Senator Organa, there has been an attack on your home in Aldera. An assassination attempt. I regret to inform you that your wife the queen has been killed."

Bail dropped back into the secretary's chair like a boned fish. "Breha…" he whispered, the raw agony in his voice bringing tears to Padme's own eyes. But Bail did not cry yet. He was fixed on the recording. The guard was still speaking.

"We had an eyewitness, and she has reported that the assassin mentioned your parents. They may be the target of another attack. Your people are panicking, and security believes there may be a bomb threat involved. Several evacuations are already underway in the main sectors of Aldera." The transmission winked out.

Bail groaned into the long silence. "Who…who did this?"

The Senate guard officer stepped closer. "I have been informed that the witness was one of your maidservants. She told security that a Jedi threatened her after killing the queen. He was a young human male with a green lightsaber who said that the Jedi were tired of being controlled by the Senate."

"Impossible…" Padme breathed in horror, watching as the color drained from Bail's dark complexion. He was nearly as white as her.

The officer kept talking. "The suspect left traces of a chalky substance in the apartment. We have trackers attempting to establish the origins even now. We should know soon."

Bail buried his face in his hands, and Padme moved to stand beside him, uncertain, frightened for him. He reached out and took one of her dangling hands. "I have to go back, Padme. I have to go to her. And I must see to the safety of my parents." He sounded broken; Padme winced.

"I…understand…" But she thought of the crucial upcoming vote, and suddenly she wanted him to stay. He could change their minds. He had to. "Can you remain for the vote?"

Bail lifted his head and stared at her. Tears hovered in the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry, Padme. I can't stay. My family is in danger. And I couldn't debate anyone now, not like this."

_And so is my family! More than you can comprehend. _But she forced herself to step into his shoes. The man had just lost his wife! Would she give a speech in the Senate if Anakin had just died? _No, I would die too._ She put her free hand over his. "I would do the same, Bail. Do what you have to. I'm so sorry."

He took strength from her blessing, rising and meeting her watery gaze with his own. "I'll get to the bottom of this, I swear, and then I will come back."

She nodded and watched him move toward the door. Something in her told her to call out, "Bail, the Jedi are being framed. This can't be what it looks like. I know it."

His reply chilled her to the bone. "I thought I did too."

The Senate guards followed him out, leaving her alone in the office with the secretary. Padme waited until the door closed, then sank down into the chair, staring at the inactive transmitter, willing it to come alive again and admit to a cruel joke. But nothing happened. Nothing happened.

Bail's secretary leaned into her field of vision, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Senator, your aide just sent word that the Jedi are requesting your presence at the Temple. They say it's urgent."

_Everything is urgent these days, _she thought, and told him, "I'll be there after the vote."

When she had pulled her emotions together long enough to move to the Senate chamber, the session was already in business. The rotunda was nearly as full as she had ever seen it, and even with what Padme knew, she still felt a jolt to notice Palpatine's glaring absence. He had been a constant in the Senate for longer than even she had realized, complacently pushing himself into the Senate's psych of what felt right and good. In his place, Mas Amedda stood and regulated the debates.

"As we have completed reviewing the events at the Opera House, the Senator from Malastare has requested a moment to speak." Amedda pointed at the three-eyed Gran, Ask Aak, who floated his pod down close to the center to speak.

"Fellow senators," he bleated, "I come before you as a victim myself of the Jedi!"

Excited murmurs filled the rotunda as senators discussed his words. Padme noted with disgust that many senators appeared to take him at his word, nodding along like his charge was an everyday occasion. She was comforted though to see that several dozen pods were loudly booing.

Ask Aak raised his hands for attention. "Not just me! Several of us were there! Senators Baab, Burtoni, Taa, and Dmiddo were also present. Just this morning, the Jedi came to the Chancellor's trauma unit under the pretense of asking after his health. Instead, they came to overthrow the Republic!"

The Senate grew deafening immediately. Arguments were occurring on every pod. Even normally sleepy pods containing outer rim senators came alive at this claim. Padme shouted, "Lies!" down at the Gran and felt her heart pounding with fear. What had happened after Anakin had removed her from the room? Had the Jedi truly tried to arrest the Chancellor?

Amedda pounded his staff and cried, "Order! We must have order!"

And slowly, as the Senate turned its attention back to the center of the room, the Gran senator and his fellow "victims" began to reveal the story. Padme shuddered as she heard it and offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Force when she found that no blood had been spilled. But she was deeply wounded, though unsurprised, as she heard how Anakin had come to the defense of the Chancellor.

Ironically, Anakin the Jedi was a hero to these senators today, having rescued their leader twice now from the _rebelling_ Jedi. Padme could almost guarantee that Palpatine wanted it this way, but she was not entirely certain why. What did he have planned for her husband? Why was he so intent on luring him from the Jedi?

A Quarren senator who shared his planet with the Mon Calamari stood up and called his register to speak. "The Mon Calamari have informed me that an attack was also made on Alderaan just today. Our esteemed Senator Bail Organa's wife was the target, and the assassin was a Jedi."

At that, Padme surged to her own feet. "Hearsay only! It has not been confirmed that this was truly a Jedi! They could be - "

Amedda glared at her and snapped, "Senator, you have not registered to speak at this session, and the Chancellor who usually so indulges you is absent because of your vaunted Jedi. Hold your tongue!"

The Quarren senator glared too, then continued his speech. "Officials have traced a trail back to the praxeum the Jedi maintain on Alderaan."

Padme almost bit her tongue instead in her helpless anger as she listened to an embellished version of the events that had claimed Breha Organa's life. Clearly, Palpatine's reach went far. There was even a transmission of the maidservant witness, which Amedda transferred to the center hologrid.

_"What exactly did he want?" _An off-holo voice asked her.

_"He wanted revenge. He said the Senate has used the Jedi too long, and that they're sick of it," _the young woman was still trembling. _"I don't think he wanted any witnesses. He was going to kill me, but the guards came back. Oh, it was terrible! He was going to kill me! He killed her… just stabbed her like an animal…he was trying to kill me…"_

The woman broke into unintelligible sobbing, and the transmission slowly faded out. The senators were sympathetically wincing or shaking their heads in disbelief and anger. Even the formerly booing senators were now silent as they faced this compelling evidence. In light of the sobering transmission, the massive room was surprisingly quiet, until several senators began shouting again.

"It is a coup!"

"Three attacks in 2 days! What else can it be?"

"They must be stopped!"

Amedda waited for the discord to grow, and Padme thought she saw a faint smile on his normally straight blue face. He was probably in on all this too, she speculated bitterly. At the moment, she had a decidedly unladylike urge to slap him, and she could imagine the look of surprise if she did. The thought brought a brief smile to her own lips.

Bar Gane raised his clawed hand, and Amedda acknowledged him. The small alien stepped to the edge of his pod. "Whether or not these attempts have been orchestrated by the whole Jedi Order or only a faction of theirs, we can't take the chance of letting them run free. The lives of our families may even be at stake, not to mention the government. I believe this great body has heard enough. In order to secure the safety of us all, I move to vote now!"

Burtoni seconded the motion, and the senators turned their attention to their voting pads. Padme entered her negative vote, watching with resigned sorrow as her entry popped up on the hologrid. _Padme Amidala of Naboo: Negative. _She watched a steady stream of _positive _flow after her: Malastare, Kamino, Champala, Corulag, even Mon Calamari!

To all present, the outcome made itself obvious. The Senate overwhelmingly supported an official investigation into the Jedi Order. When Padme thought of the fractured trust that had lead to this decision, the crushing depression was hard to control. She wanted to stand up and scream at them through her amplifier, _This is all the work of the man you think is saving you! He wants to destroy you, and you're letting him! Wake up!_

But all that would gain her would a quick, escorted trip out of the chamber. Amedda had muted her with the archaic procedures for which use he was infamous. He would not hesitate to have her removed on basis of disturbing Senate proceedings. He had done it before to others.

Mas Amedda pounded his staff on the floor of the Chancellor's center pod. "Silence on the floor for the verdict!" His fierce glare quieted several unruly senators nearby, and the hush spread outward until the whole room was listening with anticipation. "A formal investigation committee will be formed," Amedda declared. "Submit your choices to the Chancellor's office by tomorrow midday, and we will confirm the members in a silent, unmarked vote as per regulation. Until the investigation is complete, the Jedi no longer wield power in the Senate's name. They are to remain, inactive, in their current locations wherever they are stationed, and they are not to leave or gather at any point. The Republic Army will be authorized to use force if the Jedi do not comply with this detainment and investigation."

The Senate roared its approval. Padme felt sick to her stomach. She glanced across the chamber at Mon Mothma and saw the same ill fear. What would happen to them now? She needed to get to the Temple.

**For all you Star Wars Robot Chicken fans: Want to see me tempt fate? Could things get any worse?**

**First off, apologies for not updating sooner. My computer crashed, and I nearly lost the entire chapter. Through much technical struggle and judicious use of my dark side power, I was able to restore it and finish it. You Earthlings have interesting technology. USB backup, anyone? I hope to update much sooner next time.**

**Okay, I admit that I loathe Sarcev Quest. He's a two-bit pleasure-loving thug whose power has gone to his head, which of course, was probably Palpatine's intention. I did have fun writing a more detailed backstory for him though, and I think it would make a fascinating longer story. Anakin wasn't the first young Jedi he took on. **

**The title on the last chapter got rave reviews. I was actually quoting the original Planet of the Apes (with Charles Heston) film, but then I realized it was in Robot Chicken too, so that works for me. :) **

**Thanks for all the fantastic reviews, folks. I thrive off of them! :)**


	19. In Which Obi Wan Maybe Gets an Idea

o

_Love, like hate, is a weapon in the right hands. – Ancient Sith Proverb_

Chapter Nineteen

Coruscant

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Afternoon

The trauma unit was darkened, lit only by the natural and slowly fading light of the afternoon sky. The shadow that stretched across the bed watched the Jedi Knight striding up and down the long room, heard him muttering and sighing, smiled to feel the confusion that boiled on the surface. Such perplexed emotions were certainly to be expected, after what had happened.

Sidious was even willing to admit miniscule amounts of apprehension all his own. Anakin Skywalker had moved to protect him as foreseen and had not allowed Mace Windu to carry through the killing strike, but the Jedi's core remained distastefully clean. Guilt was eating into the Chosen One with every heavy step he took, as though he regretted his actions. Perhaps he did, the Sith allowed, but regret was hindsight, and nothing could be done once the action was completed. The Dark Lord counted on that.

Sidious wondered if he had played with the Jedi too much in Anakin's presence. _I should not have toyed with them so long, but it was sweetness long denied to me. Denied to the Sith Order. Should I be blamed for that? _Yes, came the brutally honest answer, if he lost the Chosen One for it. However, Sidious had been granted no dark vision that warned him of changing futures, so he doubted that was the case. Skywalker was just uncertain, vulnerable and exposed to a myriad of possibilities, a dangerous point in his life but an incredible one too. And Sidious intended to force the crack in the Light wide open.

Palpatine slid his mind to the present, burning back the shadows that swarmed his thoughts. He watched Anakin pacing and waited until the boy drew near. "Anakin… Please, tell me what troubles you. I can feel your anger quite clearly."

Anakin froze, fists clenching at his sides. His wild blue eyes blazed at the Chancellor. "Troubles? You just put the entire Jedi Council under house arrest and you ask me what 'troubles me'? You… you…"

Palpatine spread his hands. "I did not kill them, my boy, which I must say is more than they would have done for me."

Anakin started at that and stopped at the foot of his bed, staring into the softly beeping machines at his feet. Then he pinned the older man with a baleful scowl. "You did, and I'm grateful for that, but you pushed them. You pushed them after I told you not to!"

"They came to kill me, Anakin. I did what I felt had to be done. I apologize if you were uncomfortable, but how did you _expect_ this to go?"

Anakin growled softly when he heard the mild frustration in Palpatine's voice. "You were doing something with the dark side. You did something to Master Windu. I felt it! I'm not an idiot, Chancellor, or you would never have befriended me. Give me some credit."

The peculiar fondness that itched in Palpatine's chest was becoming uncomfortably common. Anakin was not the brightest star in the Force, but he was certainly powerful to have felt the private connection between Sidious and Windu during those tension filled moments. What a magnificent boy! "I will not deny it, Anakin, for you know as well as I the powerful temptation that is revenge…"

Stepping up to his side, the Jedi leaned over the bed. "My revenge was personal. You're out to avenge some wrong against your Order that is thousands of years old. I don't think it's the same."

"Revenge, whether new or ancient, remains what it is," Palpatine shrugged. "Time has only made mine stronger in its coldness. I will not accuse you of your murders, Anakin. Will you afford me an equal courtesy?"

"I…" Anakin turned pale, stepping back to fall into the seat by the bed. "That's going too far. No, no, you will _not_ murder any of the Jedi, not while I am alive. If you try, I _will_ go back to them. I'll stop you."

Palpatine let his head nod thoughtfully as he considered Anakin's words. _The_ _Jedi_ _will not die, not while Anakin Skywalker lives, that is true. And so we must see that the boy perishes to make way for the man, the Sith Lord. Then the death of the Jedi will no longer "trouble" your wearisome conscience. You will be free at last. _"Then I will not murder them, Anakin. It is as simple as that."

Blatant shock passed across the boy's face. "But, you want them dead. You want all of them dead. I could feel it back there, when they came in."

Palpatine was momentarily annoyed. How did the boy manage to sense his own feelings so well? Had something occurred in the Force between them? Was this a natural result of Anakin turning to the Darkness? If so, it was a curious result, for not even Maul had been able to sense his inner thoughts unless he specifically allowed it.

Once alone, he would delve into the bond to discover the reason for Anakin's new awareness, but Anakin was still staring at him. Palpatine cleared his throat. "Again, I cannot deny it, but in the time I have come to know you, your wellbeing surpasses my own need for immediate retribution. If you wish for the Jedi council to remain unharmed, then they will be quite safe. Seeing how they have treated you, I will not claim to understand why, but I want you to focus on what I have to teach you. I can help you."

"Why?"

The boy's suspicious bluntness took him by surprise, a rare feeling. "Why?" he stalled.

Anakin twisted in his chair. "You know, I thought we were friends, before I found out what you are, who you are. You were always there for me when I was young. I looked up to you. You were almost…well, like a father to me."

Palpatine nodded without speaking. The moments had been near filial, yes, strangely powerful even at the beginning. The connection drove him to maintain the relationship as he foresaw the most powerful apprentice yet, a student worthy of the master at last.

"I thought you felt the same way about me," Anakin's voice was low, barely audible. "But things are different. I don't know what to think anymore. I found out who you were, I almost killed you. I wanted to kill you."

"Entirely understandable," Palpatine spoke at last. "The truth has been held back from you by so many, this must have seemed a monstrous betrayal."

"It did." Anakin met his eyes. "But then, I realized that you saved my life back there in the opera house. You kept me alive somehow when it was falling. And you saved me again, even after I knew. You could have had me killed and kept your secret. I want to know why. Am I just a tool in one of your games? Am I something more? You told me you cared. Did you lie?" His voice broke on the last condemning word, and Anakin rose swiftly from the chair and moved to the wide expanse of the window.

Palpatine shifted his gaze to follow the morose figure. His eyes noted the bent shoulders, the heavy intangible weights as his mind contemplated the consequences of his answer. Anakin was asking a potentially deadly question, one that Palpatine had thought settled for himself long ago. Since Vidar Kim, as a matter of fact.

The former senator of Naboo, his confident throughout his public service, and once a genuine friend. To this day, Palpatine felt the faint sting of anger towards his late master Plagueis when he thought of the abrupt order to eliminate the older Naboo. Vidar had never used Palpatine for his own gain, never sought his power, never tried to direct his path. They had even disagreed politically, but never had Vidar pushed his own agenda at Palpatine.

With no demands and before Plagueis's entrance, the friendship remained neutrally positive. Palpatine tolerated Vidar's conservative weaknesses, which were much less painful coming from anyone who was not his father. In return, Vidar taught Palpatine everything about the politics of Naboo and Coruscant. The information and insight were priceless.

But after the death of Vidar's family, the man became a broken husk of his former power, a conspiracy theorist whining about the unfairness of life and the necessity of procreation, an heir. Palpatine sickened of it and withdrew his emotional investment until he reached the point when Plagueis's orders only angered him. There was no outward protest, and he did not hold back. Perhaps he had even done the man one last favor in having him killed.

But at one point, Palpatine had cared. And now, if he were to be completely honest, he cared again. Anakin Skywalker had blundered his way into the black heart of the Sith Lord until even Sidious regarded him with a dark fondness. Such naïve, immense power was attractive and pure, drawing him like a Nubian moth to the flames. It was a weakness, Plagueis warned him, to care for anyone but oneself. The self was all that mattered, and every other being existed to serve him: Lord Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith. To care for another broke that focus and opened him to attack.

But Anakin was different. Anakin thrived off the care of others, performed infinitely better when he had someone to impress. His loyalty was Sith-like in its slipperiness, strong and unbreakable until his companion betrayed him. The Council had betrayed his trust, and now here he sat at Palpatine's side desperate for an anchor in the resulting chaos. To ignore his attachment to the boy could drive Anakin away, for now, more than ever, Anakin needed to believe that Palpatine was on his side, was his dearest friend.

Palpatine found humor at the thought of a Sith who was forced to care and ended up actually succeeding. It had been too easy to invest in this boy and his meteoric rise to power. Anakin's loyalty was refreshing, his power invigorating, his impulsiveness a welcome respite from the dreary monotony of the Chancellor's life.

He thought back to one of the earliest times with Anakin. Just the two of them, sharing a couch and watching a swing vote for the new bypass skylanes around the Senatorial District. He remembered leaning down to point out specific senators to Anakin's curious bright eyes. He remembered Anakin, small and childish, staring at him afterwards with a strange mix of awe and happiness. _Thank you for explaining that. Obi Wan doesn't think I should bother to know that stuff, but I like it. I think I like you too, Chancellor sir. _He remembered laughing.

_And_ _I like you, Anakin Skywalker. _Many had been the afternoons when, caught up in a painful discussion of hyperspace lanes or Senatorial parking expansion, he dreamed of the day when his new apprentice would follow him willingly into the breathtaking secrets of the Dark Side. He yearned for the moment when he would have an apprentice who understood the power and was able to use it, to take his decades of teaching and grow into the consummate Sith Lord. To destroy the Jedi together and issue in a new era of Sith mastery.

An equal was too much to hope for but perhaps not a powerful companion who could help him achieve his final goal. Plagueis would call him stupid for hoping at all. Care for the boy and all he would get would be a lightsaber in the back when least expected. Never lower your guard, Plagueis had told him constantly, something that Palpatine now found delightfully ironic. Perhaps that was true for most Sith; it was certainly true of himself. But Anakin Skywalker was a different breed. He was loyal to people, willing to lie, maim, and kill for them as long as he trusted them, as long as he believed they cared.

Palpatine's honesty now could have the greatest impact.

"I care," he spoke into the long suffocating silence, observing how Anakin's shoulders stiffened with resistance. "I did not lie then or now. I saved your life because I cared about you, about your future. All those years I saw you struggling under the Jedi Code, Anakin, and I spied myself in you. You will never be tethered by the righteous indignation of others. I see you, and you are above them all. You need only break through the fog of lies the Jedi have spun around your life. You are a passionate young man, and you require guidance to reach your full potential, but I never believed that your destiny lay with the Jedi."

Anakin half turned. "Of course not. You're a Sith."

Palpatine ignored the accusation. "You should be free to be yourself, Anakin. You should be great. That is all I ever wanted. That is all I want now. Have I ever asked more of you?"

Anakin cocked his head. "No…"

"That is why I befriended you, Anakin. That is why I saved you."

He felt a warm wave of confused gratitude wash over him. Ah, Anakin, ever the slave boy, unsure of himself, waiting for the praises of his masters, the small kindnesses, always wary of the catch that often accompanied the gifts but still grateful. If kindness was the key to winning him, Sidious could outmaneuver Master Yoda himself. All for the Cause.

Palpatine reached down and smoothed the medical blanket over the casts on his legs. Already the bacta was working wonders, soaking into his physical pain with a delightful coolness. With his own dark powers at hand, he could speed the process significantly, although he would have to be careful to avoid any miraculous recoveries.

He noticed Anakin's eyes scanning over him, caught a small wave of honest sympathy. The boy was growing calmer from their encounter with the Jedi, and he latched onto the chance. "But, Anakin, I must warn you, I cannot allow the Jedi free rein in the galaxy. They must remain under investigation and arrest until the Senate decides what to do with them."

There was no real animosity when Anakin grumbled, "The Senate is corrupt and slow. You could order them to stop the investigation."

He felt his eyebrows lift high in bemused satisfaction. "And interfere with the democratic process? Was I not just berated by you for proposing that very thing?"

Anakin's face reddened, his teeth gritted. "I'm not asking you to destroy the Republic. I just want you to stop the investigation. You could do it, since you now oversee the Jedi Council. The Senate gave you that power themselves."

"And if I do, the Jedi will be free to move against me. Any chance you have to learn from me will be lost, and Padme with that knowledge. Not to mention, I rather enjoy living."

"Well, we're both in trouble then, aren't we?" Anakin grunted. "But I see what you're saying. The Jedi Council has lost its reasoning, I know that now. I can't trust them anymore. But I will not let you hurt them either. Not like what you did today. I want you to steer clear of them. Let the Senate bog itself down."

_He is seeking to delay the inevitable. Well, I suppose I can afford a bit more patience. _"And if this investigation should become a drawn-out process, you will allow me to continue teaching you?"

Anakin took a deep breath, flexed his real hand, and nodded. "I want that, and so do you. So yes, I will."

"You enjoy the most difficult route, I see," Palpatine mused. So the boy wanted the best of both worlds? Unlikely. "Much as the power of the Light Side is dimmed in the Darkness, the power of the Dark Side may be weakened in face of the Light. It will be difficult to teach you here, so near the Temple. I cannot guarantee speedy progress."

"I'll be the judge of that. If you truly care about me, if you're not just using me, then you will help me do this," Anakin leaned forward, his eyes bright with a feverish, selfish glow. "If you help me save her, I will be eternally grateful. I will even help you against the Jedi. I can make them stay away from you."

_By running your blade through their hearts, preferably, _Palpatine thought as he listened to the promises spilling from the boy. _My arrogance has been said to be great, but you walk along the knife edge of your destiny, playing both sides to achieve your goals. No one can balance between the Light and the Dark forever. You promise what no living creature can accomplish._

"I do not doubt you hold great power, Anakin," he finally sighed. "You are the Chosen One of both Jedi and Sith. You are wise beyond your years, but the choices you make will lead you through dark and terrible places, for you seek to mediate between a blood feud that is born of the ages. Can you be certain of their intentions? Can you truly hold them back?"

"I have to," Anakin told him, sincere and innocent, dark and deadly, broken and forged anew.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Obi Wan had never before sensed such tangible stress among the older members of the Council. The feeling disturbed him more than it should. Even Master Yoda, the calm of the storm, sat hunched in his chair, ears down and eyes closed, deep in a grimacing meditation.

Anakin's master turned his eyes back to the situation far below. Clone troopers, hundreds of them, were oozing out into the Temple's courtyard from their transports, moving with deadly serious intent to form the perimeters that would contain the Jedi within, to safeguard the city-planet from its former champions. Now outcasts, unwanted, scorned, hated. Holonet droids were swarming just beyond the clone troopers. The Council had ordered all Jedi on the planet to return to the Temple immediately. If a fight occurred, there would be strength in numbers.

How quickly changed the fortunes of war, Obi Wan thought, war and the Force. A scandalous thought, perhaps, but it seized in his brain and refused to leave. The Force did not play games, Windu would sternly remind him. _But the Sith do, _Obi Wan sighed mentally. _And we are caught in the middle of those deadly games. The entire Republic is, but it might be too late to extract it._

At least, not without pain, and not without Anakin. Obi Wan had always trusted his master, Qui Gon, when he spoke of Anakin Skywalker as the Chosen One, destined to balance the Force. In Obi Wan's heart, he still believed that somehow, his friend would find a way out from Sidious's influence. Anakin was simply not evil. However, the other Jedi appeared to be giving up, if Obi Wan could judge by their hushed conversations and outright accusations.

Nearly half of the Council wanted the young Knight expelled from the Order after hearing the disastrous results of the meeting. Strangely, Master Windu was quiet on the matter, withdrawn and closed off after his return from the healing ward. He and Yoda had stayed out of the arguments, leaving Obi Wan to defend his former padawan's actions.

He really could not, not without betraying the secret that Anakin treasured so deeply. And after all that Obi Wan had witnessed and performed today, he could not force himself to reveal the marriage. Some inner urging in the Force told him it would be fatal. To whom? To everyone? Especially to the Jedi. Where had the camaraderie gone, Obi Wan wondered. Once, the Jedi had moved as a cohesive unit, a powerful force for good. Had the wars truly changed them all so much? Had the Dark Side truly clouded their abilities so greatly?

_Now we scatter with each disaster, throwing blame and demanding that the Code be upheld at all costs. Now that the enemy has been revealed, we're desperate to restore order, but the foundation we seek is crumbling away. _He glanced over to see Masters Tiin and Fisto, both abnormally animated in their debate. _Where is our vaunted calm? _

Obi Wan looked back down at the clone troopers far below. Several portable gun turrets were being raised at each corner of the Temple grounds, barrels directed inwards in a surreal display of aggression. The familiar AT-TE's spreading out along the edges struck him as alien anomalies now. To think that the Senate, and through them the Sith, controlled the entirety of the Republic's army…

The Jedi could not have beaten the Separatists without the aid of their clone warriors. Companions in arms, bound together by the grim realities of war, they had seen action that showed them: _We are each powerful in our own way. _The Jedi had the Force. The clones had sheer numbers and a loyalty to their brotherhood that rivaled the Jedi. They also had strategic leadership that far outstripped the artificial intelligence of the Separatist droids.

The clones were dangerous, deadly. Until now, Obi Wan had never considered that his admired soldiers might become his greatest threat. He watched the tiny human figures redirecting the foot traffic away from the Temple, forming an empty barrier of space. All under the orders of the Senate. And Lord Sidious.

"Obi Wan?" Beside him, Kit Fisto had quietly approached and stared down at the scene with him.

"It's worse than I could have imagined," Obi Wan sighed. "The Senate has evidently gone forward with the investigation wholeheartedly. Clone Army Division C47 has been placed along the perimeters of the Temple, and they aren't going to be leaving anytime soon." Several clone commanders had approached the Temple to deliver the terms of the investigation. No Jedi could leave the grounds. No Jedi could engage in action. No Jedi was to contact the Senate; the Senate would call witnesses as it needed.

The situation was too volatile, the evidence too condemning, they said in response to the Jedi's distressed complaints. For the safety of the Republic and the Jedi themselves – ha! – the situation had to remain under control. As the clone commanders dictated their orders, Obi Wan had sensed unusual anger and suspicion never before aimed at himself.

He hated it.

He hated the helplessness that accompanied it.

Fisto gripped his shoulder and gently squeezed. "We'll find a way around this somehow. We just weren't prepared for what Palpatine did to Mace. He told me what happened, that the Chancellor threatened him somehow. We're blind, Obi Wan. That's why we're making mistakes."

"We've never faced anything like him," Obi Wan nodded. "He's not like I imagined the Sith Master to be. He's not like the one on Naboo."

Fisto grunted. "All flashing swords and brute strength? Murderous rampages and blind hatred? I thought it would be like that too, something we could face in the open and destroy together."

"But we knew he was sneaky," Obi Wan shook his head. "Look at the way he trained Dooku. And we knew he was manipulating the Senate. Why is it so hard to realize just who he is?"

"Wants you to see him as weak, the Chancellor does. Seen only what he desires us to see, we have," Yoda had crept up on Obi Wan's other side, nodding to the two. "But revealed the truth was, and we are no longer blind."

"Anakin found out somehow," Obi Wan muttered, "when the Opera House collapsed."

"Told us, you did, that he spoke to a friend about this," Yoda watched him carefully.

Obi Wan hedged. "Despite my best efforts to the contrary, Anakin knows several senators quite well, most of them firm opponents of Palpatine. For safety in these troubled times, I believe the senator must remain anonymous."

"I agree," Fisto shifted on his feet. "If Palpatine controls the Senate so completely, being revealed as an opponent could be deadly for him."

Obi Wan refrained from correcting the gender. "Yes, but it is encouraging that we do yet have friends within the Senate. If we could manage to get word to the Loyalist Committee, we could still attempt to delay Palpatine."

"They've scrambled our transmissions to keep any further incidents from occurring," Fisto's sarcasm was surprising. "And will that do any good at this point, after what happened today?"

"In disgrace with the Chancellor, the committee is, for its resistance against the Sector Governance Decree," Yoda mused. "But retains its power it does, in the fields of loyalty and Separatist sympathy. Accuse the Chancellor of this, it still can."

_And disappear one by one into the silence of the crime underworlds, they will, _Obi Wan wanted to tell the Jedi Master, but he bit back his cynicism. "We'll need someone who knows the risks and will still help us," he murmured instead.

Yoda's ears perked up as he stared out the window. "Hmmm, yes, and that chance, coming this way it is. Down below, Senator Amidala has arrived."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Padme, this is too dangerous for you to come here," Obi Wan hissed into the silence of the small communications chamber. He had tugged the senator aside while the Council organized itself. "Think of the child."

"I am, old friend, and that's why I'm here," Padme curved one hand around her belly and leaned against the wall. "The soldiers could not stop me outside. I just came from the Senate. Somehow, Palpatine has managed to have Queen Breha Organa assassinated."

Obi Wan's mouth sagged open. "Senator Organa's wife?"

"The same, and the crime was made to look like the fault of the Jedi. Bail is devastated and confused. He left for Alderaan already."

"That isn't good," Obi Wan pushed a hand through his hair. "Does Bail believe him? Palpatine?"

Padme grew paler. "Whoever Palpatine picked for the job did a good one. Security even traced the killer back to the praxeus on Alderaan. Bail doesn't know the Jedi like I do, and he's in a lot of pain…"

"But does he believe the lies?" Obi Wan pressed.

"I don't know, Obi Wan. I hope not. He's a good man." Padme grabbed onto his hands. "All I know is, I watched the Senate today, and they are acting bewitched. Palpatine has thought of everything."

It certainly felt like it anyway. "No one thinks of everything, Padme. We're just going to have to outthink him somehow. But if you fight him, and Anakin still supports him…"

Padme shook her head firmly. "Anakin will not let him harm me, Obi Wan. He's doing this all for me anyway."

Obi Wan was thunderstruck. All for Padme! "What?" he exclaimed stupidly.

She studied her fingernails closely, clearly embarrassed to meet his searching gaze. "He feels that the child is in danger, that he will die, and me too, if he doesn't intervene somehow. He wants to use Palpatine to save us."

Anakin's feverish defense of the Chancellor suddenly made sense. Obi Wan felt an uncomfortable chill run down his back. "He wants to use the Dark Side to save you?"

Padme nodded. "He doesn't think the Light is powerful enough. He's not a master. He told me he can't access the holocrons, whatever those may be."

Obi Wan groaned. Anakin was on the Council but not a master. In seeking to bring a halt to the Chancellor's power over Jedi proceedings, the Council had driven their Chosen One right into the open arms of the Sith. And now, they would never consent to making Anakin a master, not after his defiance, not after his alliance with Palpatine, not without revealing Anakin's last secret.

Obi Wan had to speak with him alone. Away from everyone else, just the two of them like the days of old. But at the moment, Padme was waiting, offering a chance to fight back. "Are you certain you wish to become involved, Padme? The Jedi are not on favorable terms with anyone now."

"I've seen enough," Padme whispered. "I don't want any more Brehas to die because I was too cowardly to use my powers, Obi Wan. I don't want my son to be born into this. I want Anakin away from the Chancellor, and I can help you in the Senate where no one else can. You know it."

Yes, she could. If Palpatine killed Padme, he would lose his power over Anakin. Unlike most other senators, her assassination would cause the Sith Lord more harm than good. Obi Wan took a deep breath. "Well then, I suggest we speak with the Council to devise a new plan of action. Your help will be invaluable, I think."

**Anakin is an impulsive fellow, so when he has a chance to calm down, he can become somewhat more reasonable. Palpatine ponders what being a Sith requires, and Obi Wan's on the hunt for Anakin with a few ideas in his head. Again, apologies for the update delay. I am preparing for a large move, which takes much of my time. **

**New (ish) one-shot alert: If Only I Had Tried Harder, starring Anakin and Palpatine shortly after the Battle of Geonosis. **

**Read and review! Tell me what you think. Reviews keep me inspired and going. :)**


	20. Progress is a Wonderful Thing

_A true friend will know to keep some secrets and tell others. _– Naboo proverb

Chapter Twenty

Coruscant

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Morning (second day since the Opera House collapse)

He should have been wringing his hands together as he tried to decide what to do, but Anakin Skywalker sat still as a stone just inside the doors of a small, darkened, shrubbery-filled atrium, ignoring the twinge that persisted in his recently turned shoulder. He did not notice the other visitors roaming on the edges, giving the distraught Jedi a wide berth. He was exhausted. Terrified. Lost. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

He had turned against the Jedi Council! Of all the incredibly dangerous things to do…but Palpatine was his last hope to save Padme, and Anakin would fight the Council long before he knowingly harmed his wife. Still, the Jedi were now consigned to the Temple, and the Jedi out on the fields of battle would have their weapons confiscated and their leadership positions removed. Palpatine had assured him that none would be harmed, as long as they did not resist the Senate's orders.

Anakin had spent the sleepless night in a long series of fast walks around the various levels of the medcenter. He stayed within mental reach of Palpatine, for he feared that the Jedi might try to return. What would he do then? He had no idea, so he kept pacing. Palpatine's Force presence, now undimmed and overwhelming in its sheer magnitude, felt strange and alien to him. Yet it also felt very promising, very secure. He envied the man's calmness in the face of the Jedi. If anyone knew how to turn the future to his favor, it was the Chancellor.

That was what Anakin was counting on. It was all he _could_ count on anymore. Padme had somehow leaked the news to the Jedi. Why, he did not understand. Did she want him expelled from the Order? Had she also told them of their marriage? Were the carefully stacked foundations of his life about to come crashing down under the wrath of a deceived Council? Did he really care?

And why had Obi-Wan come with the other Jedi to the medcenter? Why was he chosen? How Anakin wished that his old master had stayed behind, so that he could forget the betrayed confusion that flashed across the weathered face of his friend as Anakin stopped Windu in his tracks. _I did not ask for this!_

Anakin's fevered night left him spent and empty in the morning. He did not hear her soft approach until her rounded figure stopped at his side. "Padme!" Anakin leapt to his feet and seized her hands, pulling her into a darkened corner beyond the security cameras and passing eyes. "What are you doing back here? I really don't want you here."

"I had to come, Ani," her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Someone wanted to speak with you, but I didn't know if you would listen to him alone." She motioned behind her at the doors, and a taller figure in the plains robes and a raised hood rounded the edge.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin felt his jaw clench. "I thought all Jedi were ordered back to the Temple."

"I had to speak with you, Anakin. It's imperative," Obi-Wan replied softly, stepping further into the shadows and lowering his hood.

Anakin felt the hostility rear its ugly head, and he snapped, "Come to speak on behalf of the Council again, Master?"

"On behalf of our friendship," Obi-Wan corrected, his eyes crackling with unusual warmth. "The Council does not know I am here."

"Oh." This was strange. Anakin shifted. "Look, I know what you're going to say, and I don't - "

Obi-Wan interrupted, "Anakin, it's no excuse, but I see now why you protected him. Padme has told me about the dreams, about everything."

_Everything? Padme, do you really want to ruin us? _He turned a critical eye on his pale wife, then to Obi-Wan. "She told you. So, has the Council decided when I am to be expelled?"

The older Jedi sighed and rubbed at his bearded chin. "The Council is currently fighting about that, yes, but not because of your marriage to Padme. The Council doesn't know, and they won't know. It's not my place to tell them."

Anakin nearly fell backwards at Obi-Wan's words. Not told? His secret was intact? Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi, was keeping his secret from the Council? An almost painful explosion of warmth for his master grew in his chest. If only Mace Windu had not struck out at Palpatine, the situation could be well in hand. Obi-Wan had not told! A genuinely grateful smile crept onto his shadowed face.

"I can't tell you how much that means to me, Obi-Wan…" And really, he could not. All this time, he had been petrified that Obi-Wan would discover his marriage and duty would see the wayward Jedi turned in for breaking the Code. Obi-Wan, who had not spent years of his young life outside the Temple growing a distinct personality, kept his secret like a true friend. Not like a true friend. He _was _a true friend.

He could be trusted again. The realization opened a floodgate in Anakin's mind, and he suddenly reached out to clasp Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Master, I should have come to you sooner with the truth, but I was afraid that the Council…"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Would have you expelled. Yes, I fear that too. They are frightened, Anakin. The Sith Lord has been revealed as a person of great power. Palpatine controls the Senate directly, and the Jedi have always bowed to the Senate. Because of this, the Council is prone to leap to conclusions. If they knew of your marriage, I suspect you would not be a Jedi within the day. They have, however, decided to suspend you from the Council."

Anakin saw him watching carefully and laughed. "I'm not surprised. Windu wasn't expecting that."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Anakin!" he exclaimed sternly. "This is no laughing matter. Palpatine is the Sith Lord we have been seeking to destroy for years, and you defended him from a senior member of the Council. You swore to destroy his kind, not save him."

"I'm not laughing because it's funny, Obi-Wan. I'm laughing because I don't care anymore about the Council. It was never about the Council. I didn't want accolades. I wanted - "

"The Holocron access codes," Obi-Wan finished, and Anakin tossed a gentle stare at Padme. She blushed but said nothing. Anakin swiveled back to face his mentor.

"Told everything, all right. Yes, I have to save her, Obi-Wan. I can't let her go. It may not be the way of our Order, but I was a human before I was a Jedi." He saw Obi-Wan flinch at his harsh words, and Anakin felt a brief flash of guilt. How could his old master ever understand the passions that raged through his former padawan?

But Obi-Wan did not berate him or look appalled. Instead, he took a deep slow breath and leaned against the wall. "As unreal as it may seem, I too have attachments. You are like a brother to me, Anakin. I never told you because I feared what attachment would do to us, to you. You always walked on the edge of your emotions. I never did. It made me uncomfortable to train you, for I felt that we would never match."

"You always followed the Code better than I did," Anakin murmured, embarrassed and unable to meet Obi-Wan's searching gaze. The words spilling from Obi-Wan's mouth were incredible, emotional, real, humbling, and he kept going.

"But that changed with time, Anakin. As you grew up, I trained you to be the best Jedi I knew, and you surpassed my expectations. You surpassed me long ago, and your enthusiasm for life is contagious. I've found it difficult to go back to the old meditations. You called them - "

"Dry," Anakin breathed.

Obi-Wan blinked. "Yes. And I see now that you would never be made for that life. I pushed you into a mold that didn't fit. In some ways, I think I've led you to this point, and I apologize."

Red color flamed into Anakin's cheeks. "No, Obi-Wan. This is beyond both of us. I had to do it. I married her, not you."

Padme slipped up close and slid her hand into his. "We chose our path together, Obi-Wan, but I willingly yielded. I am also at fault."

Anakin felt a faint burst of anger. "No! There is no fault in what happened between us. I love you. There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing!" Padme looked uncomfortable at his words in front of Obi-Wan, who looked even worse, averting his gaze from the revealed couple.

But to Anakin, it felt good. Out in the open, he could declare his love for his soul mate at last. It felt like the moments when he had explored his dreams with Palpatine's help, exposed the nightmares with no fear, only an easy detachment. Palpatine…the situation came rushing back, and he untangled his arms from his wife. "Obi-Wan! You can't stay here! If the guards find you here, they could kill you!"

His master stretched out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Anakin, I came to talk to you, but I also came to make you an offer. I am a master on the Council."

Anakin's confusion blossomed. "I know. Everyone knows that."

Obi-Wan struggled with his own words for the next several seconds. Finally he blurted, "I have access to the Holocrons."

_Is he mocking me? _Anakin's instinctive self-preservation kicked into gear, and he scowled.

"I mean, I could…help you look for information," Obi-Wan finished quickly.

Anakin froze. Was Obi-Wan really…?

"I mean, if you want that…"

_He wants to help me! I can finally access the holocrons! _Anakin snaked out a hand to grip Obi-Wan's and gasped out, "More than anything, Master! You mean it?"

"I do."

Anakin let loose a broad smile, then hesitated. A nagging thought latched onto his brain, a thought that brought back much of the coldness of the morning. "I suppose you want me to leave Palpatine out of this." In the corner of his eye, Padme twisted her hands together.

Obi-Wan winced. "Anakin, he is a Sith Lord. Has nothing I taught you about the Sith stayed with you? He is a grave danger to everyone. He is trying to destroy us."

"Yes," Anakin frowned. "He may be, but he still may be able to save Padme, and he saved my life." He caught Obi-Wan's incredulous glare and shot it back. "Twice. I won't turn him over to be killed."

"He doesn't necessarily have to be killed," Obi-Wan started to say. "In fact, to kill him now would almost surely mean the disbanding of our order by the Senate. But he must be removed from power somehow."

Anakin snorted in disbelief. "But I _do_ know, Master, the Council would kill him if they had the chance."

"Anakin, if you could see how I have seen him with the Senate-" Padme raised her hands in a helpless gesture.

"I told him to stop his contact with the Separatists," Anakin assured them. "And he promised that he would not attack the Jedi if I continued learning from him. I don't have to believe everything he says, Obi-Wan. I just need to see if he can save you, Padme, and I can give the Jedi time, too."

Now Obi-Wan was definitely appalled. "Anakin, you're playing with _fire._"

_The thought of losing her burns more painfully than any fire, _Anakin thought and released a surge of displeasure toward his former master. Obi Wan would never truly understand. "I don't have a choice, Master. Are you still offering to help me, or is your conscience going to keep you out of it now?"

Obi-Wan stiffened. "I said I would help, and I will. But we have to be on the same team, Anakin."

"We are," Anakin nodded, but inwardly, a tiny cold voice whispered, _For how much longer? How much longer can you help me? _Brutally, coldly, he shoved the dark dragon of doubt deep in his chest and said, "You need to get back to the Temple, and I need to go back up there. The investigation team wants to speak with the Chancellor and me this morning."

Obi-Wan nodded, reluctant. Pulling his hood up close around his head, he ducked out into the growing trickle of pedestrians. Padme waited until he moved through the doors, then threw herself at Anakin.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, pushing her back and looking into her pale face. "Look, Padme, I wanted to apologize about… yesterday." He waved his mechanical hand. "I didn't mean to push you away, honest."

"Please, Ani," she stared at him, "I know you wouldn't hurt me, but you scared me then. I thought I lost you for a moment."

Anakin started and pulled her close, inhaling in her soft bun of dark hair. "No, Padme, you will never lose me, and I will never lose you. I know I will find a way to save you. So the Jedi know about Palpatine now. So what?" He felt her tremble in his arms and held her tighter. "No, I won't blame you for that. I know why you did it. The Jedi are confined to the Temple, and Palpatine has promised me that he won't harm them."

Padme twisted free and glared up. "Did he? See if you can get him not to harm the senators either then."

"What?"

She told him about Breha Organa, and Anakin felt only confusion. "Bail Organa has never been a threat to Palpatine. Maybe this was a Separatist trick. I bet Grievous did this. Palpatine told me that he would take the initiative if we left him alone. The Jedi cannot stop him now."

Padme looked numb. "Grievous has never tried to frame the Jedi before."

Anakin persisted, "Then perhaps it was a rogue Jedi. Come on, Padme. You don't think some of us may have panicked after being told to stand down? The only evidence you have points clearly to the praxeum. Palpatine is the only Sith left, and he was here with me. How could a non-Force sensitive get into the praxeum on Alderaan?"

"He has talented agents, I'm sure," Padme argued. "The Jedi are not rebelling, Anakin. You _should _know that. I know, and I've spoken with the Council."

"What? At the Temple?" Anakin exploded, then lowered his voice to a furious whisper when the other patrons glared at him. "That was dangerous!"

"Yes, but no more dangerous than letting things digress further. We're going to slow him down in the Senate." She noticed his alarm and put a finger to his lips. "We're not moving against him directly. We can't do that yet."

He nodded. "It would be useless."

"We're going to try to take the Jedi out of his hands." Her com link went off with a low chime, and she glanced down at the screen. "I have to go now. We're meeting shortly."

_Who are you meeting? Why? What are you planning? _He intended to ask her every question, but one look into her soft brown eyes and he melted. "Be careful," was all he could choke out.

Her lower lip quivered. "I love you."

He almost broke down then and there and begged her to run far away with him, but that was unpractical, unsafe. Instead, he leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "And I love you, so please, _please_ don't do anything we'll both regret." 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Coruscant

Galactic Senate

Noon

Sate Pestage never felt more invigorated than when he sat in the Senate behind Mas Amedda and watched the shaak-like senators stumble into line behind his master's wishes. Very little could disturb him in this auspicious chamber where his lord's word was law, but currently two senators held his attention. His shiny wet brown eyes flicked back and forth between Padme Amidala and Mon Mothma, their heads bent close together and low whispers passing between them. _My, how the kaadu do play while the narglatch is away, _he thought, subconsciously echoing a common saying of Naboo that he had picked up from Palpatine.

Pestage absently ran a thin hand through his receding black hair and pinched the bridge of his pointed nose as he watched the women conspire. For that was what they had to be doing, no doubt. Palpatine had often told him of Amidala's treacherous leanings, and Mon Mothma, though more respected among the senators, made her distaste for the Chancellor evident to all who bothered to listen.

Yesterday, Pestage had shadowed Amidala to the doors of the Jedi Temple and observed her bluster her way inside. She emerged hours later with a grimace of determination on her pretty porcelain face. The same evening, the sallow-skinned operative immediately made his way to the medical center where he found his master, surprisingly, alone.

"_My Lord…where has Skywalker gone?" he asked as he stepped into the dim room. Palpatine looked incongruously small in his plain dark bathrobe as he sat on his bed, eyes closed, hands intertwined in silent meditation. _

_The eyes flashed open, spearing Pestage with a sickly yellow scrutiny. Pestage struggled to regulate his breathing until he realized that Palpatine was not angry. He was elated, the dark glee that usually hid so well now bubbling to the surface. "He expressed a desire to contemplate our situation alone. I sense him on the floor below us."_

"_The cafeteria," Pestage offered, his analytical agent's mind immediately organizing the layout of the complex. "I take it the day has gone well."_

"_Better than I might have hoped," Palpatine smiled faintly. "You saw for yourself the results in the Senate. I must congratulate your ability to mobilize the underground rumor mills."_

_Pestage nodded and basked in the praise, for such kind words were rare even for Palpatine's closest operative. "So the boy is yours?"_

_Palpatine steepled his fingers. "He is so close, Sate! I see the darkness in his eyes, the confusion and fear, and I know he will be mine. Soon. The Jedi have struggled to fill his head with their inane ideology, but he does not believe a word of it. They have alienated him without much help from me, as a matter of fact."_

_Pestage caught the spark of satisfied content on his master's face and thrilled to see it. Even now, when things did not go according to plan, Palpatine held all the strings. Well, almost all. He wanted the moment to continue indefinitely, this addictive companionship that had grown more sparse with each year of service. _

_But he would not delay information to the master for his own petty happiness. "That is excellent indeed, my lord, but I do bring word of a potential problem."_

_Palpatine's eyes instantly narrowed and focused on his aide. Pestage wondered if the dark lord was rifling through his memories, searching his open mind. He never could tell as he was entirely blind to the Force. _

"_The Senate. Amidala." It was not a question. _

_Pestage nodded. "I tailed her to the Jedi Temple this afternoon. I suspect she met with the Council members."_

_Palpatine took a deep breath. "While the Jedi are contained on the Temple grounds, they intend to use her to reach the Senate. Perhaps she was the only one foolish enough to offer her help. Or perhaps they realize that she is regrettably immune to deadly 'accidents' at the present time."_

_Pestage glanced at him sharply. "Do you believe the Council knows about Skywalker's marriage to Amidala?"_

_The Sith lord shook his head side to side. "No. At least not the entire Council. I believe that tidbit of information would have surfaced in our little dispute this afternoon. But perhaps one or two, perhaps Kenobi, enough to realize that the woman is in a good position to help them survive a while yet." _

"_Are you certain we should not have her quietly removed?" Pestage felt a small twist of alarm. "I can make it so her disappearance could never be tracked to you, my lord."_

"_Out of the question," Palpatine snapped. "At the moment, she is the reason for Skywalker's loyalty to me. I need her unharmed and protected, even as she seeks to destroy me." He leaned back on his bed and scoffed, "Padme, Padme, my blessing and curse. I eagerly await the day when you will become…irrelevant."_

_Pestage chuckled at the thought. If only. "So do you think the Jedi will try anything during the formation of the investigation committee tomorrow?"_

"_Doubtless. They are fast running out of options, Sate. They must move quickly to keep up with me. Monitor the situation and report back to me what the little queen has to say."_

So now Pestage did just that, watching his master's Curse pointing to several senators and whispering to Mon Mothma. Just what were the little schemers up to this time? Both Padme and Mon Mothma had registered to speak. A noticeable absence was Bail Organa of Alderaan.

Even Pestage had to admire the swift efficiency of Sarcev Quest, though he also had to nurture a bit of professional jealousy. The whelp had less than half of his own skill. Quest was young, arrogant, and untested where it counted. He had never stood side by side with the glory that was their master and mowed down all that opposed them in a storm of death. Pestage remembered the old days fondly.

When Amedda moved to calm the noisy chamber, Mon Mothma immediately put in her request to speak. Amedda's disgustingly blue nose twitched with annoyance, but he granted her the right to speak.

Mothma hovered her pod close to the chancellor's station and began, "The Loyalist Committee would like to put forward a counter-motion before the investigation committee is chosen, according to Procedural Guide 47G. We have tallied our numbers, and we are seven in favor, two against, one abstaining. Mon Mothma of Chandrila, Padme Amidala of Naboo, Banu Breem of Humbarine, Giddean Nadu of Kuat, Nee Alavar of Kanz, Silya Shessaun of Thesme, and Fang Zar of Sern are in favor, and Fema Baab of the Bajic sector and Ask Aak of Malastare are against. Bail Organa of Alderaan abstains." A murmur ran through the room at the mention of his name.

As she spoke, Pestage jerked his head sharply to look at the data that had been uploaded to the Senate pods. A legitimate and documented political count. What could the Loyalist Committee want with a non-Separatist issue? "Can they do that?" he hissed up at the Speaker of the Senate.

Amedda glared down at him and hoarsely whispered, "Yes, they can. It's a procedure that allows the Loyalist Committee to claim sole jurisdiction over suspected Separatist matters. It requires almost no substantial evidence on their part to make the accusation. It was supposed to smooth the whole process of rooting out those with Separatist sympathies."

"Not this time," Pestage hissed in return. This time it was holding _them _back. If Mothma and her ilk convinced the Senate that the Jedi were suspected of Separatism, the investigation could be bogged down for weeks in the Loyalist Committee, which was mostly composed of Jedi-loving fools. The very word "Separatist" struck a strange hyper-patriotic chord in even the most corrupt of Senators. "They've gotten smarter," he mumbled, angry.

Mothma was still speaking. "In light of our goals as the Loyalist Committee, to maintain the coherence of this great Republic and safeguard the sanctity of the Senate, we seek to establish the validity of the rumors surrounding the Jedi Order, some of which proclaim the influence of the Separatist movement."

"I think he may regret founding that committee," Amedda sighed.

"He'll work around it," Pestage bit back. "He always does." He hated putting up with the non-human's constant announcements of doom. Amedda knew of Palpatine's true identity, but he had little grasp of Palpatine's true power and reach.

Mothma waited for the dull roar of the Senate to die back down before continuing, "The primary motivation for our request is that until recently, the Separatists were led by a former member of the Jedi Order, Count Dooku. Where lies one connection, more may follow."

"What would it take to shut their game down?" Pestage asked Amedda, who shook his large head.

"More senators than we can guarantee," he said quietly. "To overturn a Loyalist Committee investigation request requires a four fifths majority ruling. The percentage was set to protect against Separatist influence in the wider Senate body. But, while the accusation is easy to make, the verdict is much more difficult to confirm."

"Well, _that_ helps," Pestage sniffed. _How did we not see this coming? _he wondered, momentarily taken aback at the simple manipulation.

Sensationalism sold well, and Mon Mothma energetically played up the connection between the deceased Dooku and the Jedi. She was walking a thin line, though. Too much convincing material and the Senate would attempt try the Order for treason.

Most unfortunately, the Senate appeared to listening to the woman. The midday was warm and sleepy, and the senators who milled about the chamber were considerably more subdued than the self righteous avengers of the day before. _How quickly they lose interest. Blind, lazy beasts that require a guiding hand constantly. _

If Palpatine were here, they would be trying to shout Mothma down in their eagerness to show support. Pestage wondered if Palpatine was watching the session through the Senate Holonet channel, and if so, what he thought of this attempt. Had he foreseen this as well? Or was he, like Pestage and Amedda, surprised by this new line of attack? _But he's not like us. Not at all._

"This is why the Loyalist Committee seeks to determine the truth of any Separatist sympathies," Mothma concluded. "We request an immediate vote on the matter."

Amedda slammed his staff down on the floor of the podium. "Your motion is heard and admitted, but immediacy is not required. We will break session for thirty minutes and reconvene for the vote." He beat the staff again and dropped the podium down into the Chancellor's rotunda office.

Pestage growled and leaned back in his chair. So the little minxes wanted to play dirty? They were trying to corral the investigation of the Jedi for themselves, but in doing so they were also lowering the suspicious and loathed specter of Separatism on the Jedi Council. A risky move that could easily backfire, meaning they must be fairly desperate.

Separatists and Jedi… Hm, there had to be a connection to make somewhere. But Pestage was a simple man, undemanding in his efforts. If there was no connection, he would merely make his own. But Palpatine would need to be updated, so the operative snuck from the chancellor's office and slipped into the flow of chattering politicians as he made his way to the medical center.

**And Obi-Wan makes some progress. Hurrah! It's hard though, because he and Anakin have grown somewhat distant over the years, but it's a step in the right direction after all, and Anakin is realizing that not every Jedi is out to get him. **

**I'm working on some one-shot ideas, but I need some inspiration this week, so if you have an idea for a one-shot, pm me and let me know. I might find time to write it up someday. **

**Thank you for all your thoughtful reviews. Please, keep it up! :)**


	21. Heart to Heart with a Sith Lord

Partnership with a Sith did not make one a Sith_. –_ Dooku_ (Labyrinth of Evil)_

Chapter Twenty-One

Coruscant

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Noon

Anakin wanted to punch the mild-mannered head of investigative police the whole time that he and Palpatine were being interviewed. It was hard enough admitting that he had been knocked out early in the fight, like a fresh-faced padawan, without also trying to hide the truth of Palpatine's intervention. And the investigator was so…snoopy.

As Anakin watched Palpatine slide around the man's questions with practiced and covetable ease, he felt as though he carried a thousand secrets, and if he dropped one, the rest would plunge to the ground and his fragile life would shatter. Everyone was in danger from everyone. Palpatine and the Jedi menaced each other. The Senate was threatening the Jedi. The Jedi were threatening Anakin. Everyone was hiding something too.

That thought caused him to consider Obi-Wan's offer again, a shocking thing. The plans that had only recently blossomed in Anakin's chest were saturated with the new hope of the holocrons. If he and Palpatine could not discover a way to save Padme, then there was still a chance. The idea unclenched the tightest knot in his heart, but the others remained.

First and foremost: Palpatine. The man was a Sith. Sith were evil. At least, that was what he had been told for most of his life, but Anakin had never been raised with the dogmatic views of the sheltered Jedi. He knew life was not two Krayt dragons, one white and one black fighting endlessly like the ancient Tatooine legend told. Life was a scale, with countless shades of gray between the ends. Black and white existed, but in much lesser degree.

Anakin had seen countless grays in his short life as a slave. Even Watto, the idiot, had not been entirely evil to him and his mother. Cruel, tight-fisted, yes, but occasionally generous too. And now that Anakin was a Jedi Knight, he saw even more gray. The Senate was not the perfect example of democracy and justice as the Jedi masters would have him believe. Because of his marriage to Padme, Anakin saw the ugliness and corrupt greed that saturated the proud government.

Was Palpatine all black, or was he gray? Anakin could not say with certainty. The Chancellor seemed to sincerely desire to end the corruption of the Senate. Through any means necessary – Anakin grimaced – which included the destruction of Padme's beloved Republic (it certainly was not his). But was that evil? Was the Republic even working anymore for the good of its citizens? Something needed to change. Maybe big change was needed to wake the politicians up.

Killing millions of beings to achieve that change? That had to be evil, but casualties were an unavoidable part of war. Someone would always resist change. _If I had the power to change things for the good of others, would I be wrong to use it if someone was in my way? _Innocents, yes, but were there any innocents? War was total, all-encompassing. The Republic, as it stood, refused to go far enough to win. Anakin remembered the companionable agreement between himself and Captain Tarkin during the escape from the Citadel. Well, Palpatine was willing. And the frightening part of it was: did Anakin admire him for it? 

Palpatine had also saved his life. An evil Sith did not save others, according to the Jedi. He would have let Anakin die and with him the threat to his rule. Even now, Anakin could say only a few words and Palpatine's alter ego would be exposed to the galaxy. But the older man sat quietly on the hospital bed, weaving the tale of the Opera House's collapse and feeling like he always had, except now his presence – like a broken dam – flooded the room with the power of the Force.

Anakin watched him closely. _He's always known me so much better than the Jedi, maybe even better than Obi-Wan. He trusts me. He's helping me and Padme without asking for anything. He believes in me. He knows I can be more than what I am. Why can the Jedi not admit it? Why do the "good" people hold me back while the "evil" ones acknowledge me? Maybe I'm mislabeling them completely. _

As his indignation grew, a tiny part of his brain told him, _Obi-Wan cares about you too, in his own way. He's trying to help. _Good old Obi-Wan; at least he had not gone mad with the rest of the Jedi. But the Council was not evil either, only misguided and foolish, stuck in their old ways of thinking and unable to change. Like the Republic. The two had grown old together, old and almost toothless. 

Life was a scale, and Anakin was looking for the perfect balance, which he had no idea if it even existed. But he had the power; he had to try.

"Anakin?" He looked up to see Palpatine regarding him, the investigator having left the room.

"I'm sorry, sir, I quit paying attention."

"I understand," Palpatine proffered a thin-lipped smirk. "I do hope the rest of the investigation is more… interesting."

Anakin looked askance at him. "Do you _enjoy _courting danger, sir?"

Palpatine's teeth finally showed in a small smile. "True danger does not have to exist for me, Anakin, when the Dark Side is my ally. The ways of the galaxy and Force alike are mine to command. Most issues are merely obstacles. A few may be challenging at best. With my help, you will see this to be true for you as well."

"I hope so, but I only want to save Padme, sir," Anakin reminded him, feeling traitorous with the way his heart stirred at the mention of the Dark Side.

Palpatine keenly eyed him. "We must all start somewhere, I suppose. But you did miss something of importance. Here." He held out a silver cylinder in his left hand. Anakin knew it immediately.

"My lightsaber!" he cried, quickly reaching out and seizing the familiar handle, grateful that he no longer needed to wield the borrowed one from the Temple. It had been the property of a long-dead Jedi that he had picked up before coming to the medcenter. "Where did you get it?"

"The investigation team found it near the bottom of the Opera House as they were clearing the rubble. I convinced the officer to let you have it, although he was loath to lose a piece of evidence," Palpatine chuckled. "I told him it was more than that to you."

"A lightsaber is a Jedi's life. Thank you, sir," Anakin said softly, and then he wondered, "Is it… is it that way for a Sith too?"

Palpatine studied him. "A Sith is taught to work beyond the lightsaber, Anakin. Lightsabers are neither subtle nor easily concealed in battle. Nor are lightsabers the strongest weapon that may be wielded. The Dark Side gives us the power to make anything in our grasp – and beyond – a tool for our desires."

"You talk about the Dark Side like it's your servant." Anakin had never considered the Force like that. The Force moved and shaped the worlds through the vessel-like Jedi. Jedi never expected the Force to meet their ends.

"And so it is. The Sith do not believe in the will of the Force triumphing over the user, Anakin. The Force is an energy field, no more evil or good than a tree or a rock. The Force is a scale, yes? Running from light to dark, driven in places by different emotions and mental exertions. The Dark Side responds to the more passionate emotions, such as fear, anger, hatred. In my studies, I have found it to respond best to anger. Anger is still a raw emotion, and the true test is what you are willing to do to achieve your goals, but anger is a critical component."

"Anger?" Anakin stared. "Not hatred or madness?"

"If you wish to turn into a mindless powerhouse, perhaps," Palpatine scoffed. "But if you wish to control your fate, cold and clinical anger makes the best carrier. It provides the emotional punch to force the Dark Side to your will and the emotional distance to avoid foolish mistakes."

"How would you cultivate anger?" Anakin's brow furrowed. "Isn't anger spontaneous?" It was always spontaneous for him, like when he drew on it at Cato Neimoidia or Yavin 4.

Palpatine looked pleased. "Initially. And that is the point of the most danger, my boy. Revenge is a dish best served cold. That's a favorite expression of Naboo politics, you know, and one I took to heart. Take your anger and think about it constantly, from every angle. Ask why, ask when, ask where."

Anakin thought of the Tusken Raiders, felt the instant rise of raw hatred, and shuddered. He was not ready for that, and he shoved it down deep. Palpatine noted his reluctance and did not press the issue, changing the subject smoothly.

"And have you given any more thought to my suggestion? About going off world to study the nature of the darkness? I still believe we should have more success in our endeavors."

Anakin bit his lip. "I don't want to leave Padme here alone."

Palpatine exhaled slowly and pressed, "If she were to accompany us?"

"No, she can't leave Coruscant. They have the best medical care here."

"I can assure that the best medical care will follow us to the ends of the galaxy, be it required," Palpatine told him softly. "I am still Chancellor, you know."

"It's kind of you to offer," Anakin hedged. "I'll think about it, then."

Palpatine pulled at the bandage on his left hand. "Take your time in deciding, but realize that even with our modern technological wonders, we cannot keep children in the womb past their time."

_Don't I know it! _Anakin wanted to snap, but the concern from his mentor felt real enough. It was disconcerting, this new and brighter connection between the two of them. Ever since Palpatine had revealed the Force within himself, Anakin had a slowly growing sense of the other man. The levels of darkness frightened him as much as the levels of power comforted him. It was like sitting next to a Tatooine trained guard Bonegnawer. You knew it was not going to attack you, but you wondered all the same.

Anakin gazed down at his hands and realized, he really knew nothing about Palpatine. He was the Chancellor and a Sith Lord, both a friend and a mastermind of war and politics, deadly, gifted. But who was Palpatine? Padme never had much to say about her former senator. Until the discovery, she had treated him with respect. Anakin knew he was from Naboo, but other than that…

"Why Sidious?" he suddenly asked and was rewarded with a genuine look of surprise.

"Beg pardon?"

"Why are you named Darth Sidious? I heard Gunray call you that when we found the mechno-chair holoprojector on Cato Neimoidia: Lord Sidious." He watched Palpatine's right fist clench tightly at the mention of Viceroy Gunray and found it interesting. So they both disliked the slimy character. The Chancellor still hesitated, clearly trying to decipher a reason for the question.

"The Sith Lords are named by their masters upon completing their trials," he finally replied. "The name is both drawn from the inspiration of the Dark Side and the master's knowledge of the apprentice's nature."

"So what does yours mean?"

The Sith crossed his arms slowly. "The naming ritual is considered highly private."

"Humor me," Anakin smiled faintly. Palpatine's eyes narrowed, and Anakin was reminded of the deadly line he was walking. But somehow, he knew he was safe. Palpatine needed him for something. He would not kill him for a simple question.

He did refuse though. "Irrelevant, Anakin. This will not help you save Padme, and you are not a Sith."

Anakin pushed one more time, his natural insatiable curiosity taking over. "So Sith have rules too? Doesn't sound much better than Jedi."

Was that Palpatine's teeth he heard grinding? "Traditions, not rules. We respect the rich past of our Order, Anakin, for the past is our guide to the future. I am under no obligation to not tell you, but I respectfully decline nonetheless."

Anakin nodded, sensing a darkness that had not been present earlier. Time to leave that topic alone then. "I was just curious about you."

"Curious." Palpatine's voice was flat, betraying nothing.

"Yes. I mean, until this happened, we were friends, I think. But I still don't know anything about you personally." Anakin was fairly certain that Palpatine thought he had gone mad in light of recent events. The Chancellor was caught between a bemused smile and longsuffering grimace.

"Between working as the Supreme Chancellor and maintaining the Sith Order, I have little time for personality," he said.

"Somehow I doubt that," Anakin grinned. It felt good to grin. Surreal, because he was sitting next to the Jedi's deadliest enemy, but good. He was so tired of the darkness and pain and war; he did not care who or what caused it; he just wanted to escape now and then. "You have to have something, like a sense of humor or a hobby or something. I don't know… For instance, you like the arts, like that musical Squid Lake."

"Squid Lake is an amalgamation of opera and ballet," Palpatine automatically corrected with a shake of his head. "I have taken you to enough of those to know that, Anakin."

_He's still there! _Anakin seized on the light-hearted moment, desperate and overjoyed to find a glimpse of his old friend. "I was right though."

Palpatine sighed and admitted, "I do enjoy the performing arts."

"And sculpture."

"Yes."

"Weird sculpture."

"Anakin…"

"Sorry," Anakin looked down and stifled a laugh. "But still, that's about all I know."

The Chancellor sighed. "Perhaps that is all with which I wish to amuse myself."

"So you don't want to talk about that either. Fine. When did you go into politics?"

Palpatine relaxed somewhat at the question. "I was twelve years old," he noticed Anakin's disbelief, "older than many politically-minded Naboo, as a matter of fact. Your own Padme Amidala made the Apprentice Legislature at eight years."

"I didn't know that!" Anakin exclaimed, his grin widening again.

"A true woman of humility," Palpatine deadpanned. "But highly talented. I saw her potential to be great in the political field."

"So what?" Anakin chuckled. "You convinced her to run for queen?"

"Are you reading my mind?" Palpatine asked dryly. "I helped there, yes."

"Huh… So in a roundabout way, you're responsible for us meeting when she was queen." Palpatine glared. Anakin suddenly paled. In more ways than one. Palpatine had engineered the blockade on his own planet, driving the queen to Tatooine. _Be careful, _his mind cautioned. _This is not a harmless man. _He racked his brain for another, safer topic. "What about your family?"

Palpatine never wavered as he looked away. If anything, his voice grew almost robotic when he said, "My entire family perished in a star ship incident when I was seventeen years old."

"Oh, Sithspit!" Anakin blurted and then flushed. "I mean, sorry. I'm sorry about that. I know what it's like to lose family."

Palpatine's eyes shifted to him. "Do not apologize. My family and I were not close. My father and I clashed over many issues."

"But at least you _had _a father," Anakin replied, feeling a wistful twinge of envy and almost missing a surge of displeasure from the older man. Even a cold father had to be better than no father, to be regarded as a freak of nature.

Palpatine latched onto his self-pity. "You are extraordinary, Anakin. Your parentage matters little in the grand scheme. All that matters is what you do with this gift you have been given."

"Don't do that," Anakin complained, secretly pleased. "Don't make this about me again. I'm tired of hearing about me, about the Chosen One saving the galaxy and all that nonsense." He tried to smile, but Palpatine's Force presence had dimmed in withdrawal, and the light mood was lost. Suddenly, Anakin was a Jedi Knight sitting next to a Sith Lord again, and he _hated _it.

They sat in silence for several minutes until Anakin was beginning to think that the other had fallen asleep. Did Sith Lords sleep? Or was he planning his next move against the Council?

"Speeder racing."

Anakin glanced up. "What?"

Palpatine smiled at his confusion. "I used to race speeders competitively."

"Really?"

"Mhm… I won more than I lost. For a time, I considered becoming a professional racer."

Anakin's eyes bulged. He stared hard at the older man and could not imagine Palpatine, elegant and calculating, going out in an engines-roaring, smash-down dash for the finish line. He chuckled. "You know, so did I, before the Jedi found me. I was going to win freedom for myself and everyone else."

"A pity that did not happen sooner," Palpatine sighed, and Anakin instantly thought of his dead mother, automatically squashing the resentment that smoldered there.

The door chimed for a new visitor. A thin human male exchanged words with the guard, slid into the large room, and approached the bed. Sate Pestage, Palpatine's personal aide. "Some tax bills for you to sign, Supreme Chancellor," the man purred.

Anakin shuddered as he looked at Pestage. The man gave him the creeps, like Pestage was looking into his soul and finding nothing of worth. He was a prejudiced snob who gave off a simultaneous impression of a cold-blooded killer. Unwilling to stomach the man's presence and grateful for a chance to mull over the revealing conversation, Anakin moved toward the door to make his way to the cafeteria. He was getting hungry anyway.

As he stepped out of the door, his sharp hearing caught Pestage's words. "The Loyalist Committee has banded together to take on the investigation of the Jedi, my lord."

_Loyalist Committee? Padme belongs to that! What is she planning? _Alarmed, Anakin forgot about going for food and stretched out subtly with the Force to listen in on the whispered conversation.

"Once the investigation is in the hands of the Loyalist Committee, they will bring a virtual halt to the process," Palpatine mused. "Such a request requires a four fifths vote to turn down."

_Halt the investigation? That's good! _

"That's what Amedda said," Pestage nodded. "He doesn't think we can muster the support in so short a time."

"Amedda is limited to the political fields and therefore short-sighted," Palpatine told him. "Even if the committee succeeded in taking this case, a non-guilty verdict may easily be overturned. This play of theirs can only delay us. But I will take this matter in hand. The motion will not pass, Sate."

Anakin heard the rustling of fabric, and he focused his Force powers on Palpatine, seeing the Chancellor sitting up straight in his bed, eyes closed, mouth moving silently. Anakin sharpened his mind's eye to study the movements, felt the messages passing speedily across the currents of the Force, flashes of inky intangible black spearing into the Senate building. _Senator_ _Sao Beeeko, you will vote no on the Loyalist Committee. Senator Alya Aneeda, you will vote no on the Loyalist Committee. Senator Ko'cha'kak, you will vote no…_

Anakin brought himself back to the physical hallway with a gasp. Palpatine was somehow reaching across space with the Dark Side to mind control the wavering senators. Singlehandedly, he was going to stop Padme's committee from investigating the Jedi, just when Anakin had spotted his chance to stall the whole process and keep the Jedi Order intact while he and Obi-Wan accessed the holocrons. _I have to stop him. _

Without thinking more, Anakin shoved past the guard back into the room and strode toward the bed. Sate Pestage lurched to his feet and glared at him, daring him to pass. "This is a private convers-" he started to bluster.

Anakin dared, grasping the smaller man by his thin shoulders and bodily shifting him to the side, loathing the physical contact. He then leaned close over the bed and seized one of Palpatine's arms, intending to catch his attention.

And found himself holding thin air and looking into the sharply yellow eyes of the Sith Lord, glowing with a disturbing anger inches from his own. "What are you doing?" Palpatine's voice was almost a growl, his own hand clutching the front of Anakin's robes near his neck.

Anakin pushed down his fear. "You have to stop," he ordered. "You can't manipulate them like this. They have to make the decision on their own."

"Can't?" Palpatine hissed, and Anakin began to worry. He could not see his mentor in those sickly eyes. Palpatine would not hurt him, but this was not Palpatine! Would the Sith try to harm him? Could he defend himself from the Master Sith Lord? Anakin began to inch his hand toward his lightsaber, instantly regretting his overconfidence.

"You can't."

They stared at each other until the yellow bled away, leaving an empty ice blue in its place. Palpatine's grip released, and Anakin took a hasty step back. "I apologize," Palpatine finally offered, his words low and tight. "You surprised me while I was concentrating. When delving deeply into the Dark Side, the user is exposed to the more aggressive emotions."

Was it true? Was that all? Leery of the wiry strength he had felt in the older man, Anakin kept his distance. "I apologize too then, but you have to let them make their choices or I can't help you anymore."

Palpatine raised his eyebrows. "You would take chances with the wellbeing of your wife to allow those fools the façade of free will?"

"No," Anakin shook his head. "I'm not taking any chances, but you will be. And it's not a façade."

The Sith did not blink, though Anakin got the distinct impression that something important had occurred. He shifted uncomfortably until Palpatine responded. "Very…well. You presume much on our friendship, but I will honor your wish. The vote will remain unaltered."

"Thank you," Anakin exclaimed, relieved. "I won't forget this."

The smile did not quite reach Palpatine's cold eyes. "I do not believe I shall either." He glanced sharply at his cowering aide and inclined his head toward the door. Pestage scurried away, and Palpatine locked his gaze back on Anakin. "Sit down. We need to talk."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Utapau

Temporary Separatist Headquarters

Early Afternoon

Grievous slammed his metallic fists down on the flimsy table, watching with open contempt as Viceroy Nute Gunray's eyes bulged. He leaned his face close to the much smaller Neomoidian. "Do you think I am playing games with you? The planet is not to your liking, perhaps? Not enough health spas for your sensitive skin?"

"There's no need to talk that way," Gunray blustered, slippery hands flapping at his sides. He was clearly frightened and angry, but the fear kept him rooted to his seat. "We're not complaining. We're asking."

Grievous snorted. He had brought the Separatist leadership to Utapau, as directed by Lord Sidious several days ago. Once settled here, the slimy bunch of bankers and businessmen began disdainfully questioning Grievous's intentions, especially after they learned that Grievous intended to resettle them on Mustafar, a planet of fire, lava, and ash.

Grievous was angry and frustrated himself, as he had received no further instruction from Sidious after the terse instructions. His concerns about the fate of the Separatist movement had been dismissed out of hand. Sidious's hologram had been almost flippant. Definitely uncaring, and Grievous resented such treatment. He would not dare to say so, but here, far from Sidious's presence, he thought so. He also thought he would enjoy stringing Gunray up by his own slimy innards.

He caught Gunray staring at him nervously. "Lord Sidious's instructions were clear," he rumbled at last. "Mustafar is your next destination. I suggest you make peace with that."

"Why Mustafar?" San Hill, stick-thin Munn and chairman of the Banking Clan, asked again, not nearly as intimidated by Grievous as the others were. He and Grievous went far back together, as the Munn had been the one to welcome a mourning Grievous to the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Life as an enforcer had been undesirable, but his employment brought much-needed-relief to the Kaleesh. Hill's guild had also paid to put Grievous back together after the nearly successful Jedi plot on his life, the shuttle crash.

Grievous glared.

Hill did not budge. "Granted, it is a base far from the Republic's focus, but Lord Sidious has indicated that the war will soon be over. Why can we not simply remain on Utapau? The hiding places this sinkhole planet provides should be plentiful enough."

"Mustafar may be unpleasant," Grievous growled, "but you will be more uncomfortable if the Republic catches you here while searching for me. Already, our presence may be compromised. I distrust the native inhabitants, for all their talk of neutrality. We will be departing soon."

Without waiting for their replies, he swung up from the makeshift conference table and strode away, pushing one of the slower Magna guards out of his path. The droid stumbled and fell into step behind him. Grievous moved silently towards his quarters, busily replaying the recent events in his mind.

Dooku was dead, leaving him the sole remaining Separatist leader with teeth. The Republic would spare no expense to locate and incapacitate him, especially after his surprise attack on Coruscant, which meant that when his tagalong band of misfits moved to Mustafar, Grievous would keep going. He planned to planet-hop with his main cruisers and wreak havoc in the Outer Rim until he received definitive orders from Sidious.

In the meantime before relocating, he needed to investigate the latest rumors from Coruscant, that the Opera House had been attacked in a failed assassination attempt on the Chancellor. Grievous pondered the pale, thin politician who had briefly been in his "care" and grunted. The worm must have more than nine lives.

He ordered his guards to remain outside his temporary quarters, which were halfway down the side of Utapau's third largest sinkhole. As he stormed through the small entry and the reinforced doors slid shut behind him, he noticed one of his lightsabers missing from the travel display case on the right table. Instantly, the cyborg dropped into a battle-ready crouch and scanned the dark room.

"Who is in here?" Grievous demanded, swinging his sharp head side to side and reaching for two of the lightsabers under his cloak. An intruder who made it into his quarters was potentially very dangerous, and he would take no chances when the majority of the Separatist leaders depended on him for their wellbeing. Was it a worthless Jedi? "Show yourself!"

A ringing laugh greeted him. "General Grievous, I'll show myself if you promise not to make any foolish assumptions. I am no Jedi."

A woman then. Human or humanoid, judging from her grating voice. Grievous followed the softening chuckles to a deeper shadow under the stairwell. He clenched the handle of his favored saber. "Another whelp of Dooku's then? Is that man trying to haunt me from beyond the grave?"

The shadow separated from the others, approaching the light of his stasis chamber slowly, steadily. "Not Dooku, no, he's beyond caring, General. I come from Lord Sidious."

Surprise pushed into his mind, and Grievous briefly wondered, could this be the new apprentice of whom Sidious had often spoken? She felt no more powerful than Dooku or Ventress had been. He had no Force talent, but he did have a natural Kaleesh instinct about others. Perhaps it was a trap to draw his loyalties out. "Dooku's replacement?"

He was taken aback by the harsh growl that accompanied her reply. "Hardly. Lord Sidious made that _quite _clear."

Grievous hesitated, cocking his head with a whir of metallic clicks. He strongly disliked the hatred in her voice that was directed at his master. This was trouble. "Are you a friend or foe of the Separatists? I warn you not to play games with me, woman."

"I was once someone of importance in the Republic's government," she proclaimed, stepping out into the pale lights of the room and lowering the tattered hood to her shoulders. Grievous stared at the disturbing specter, a thin, tall, willowy humanoid, devoid of hair, pale skinned, scarred, and dead-faced. Grievous stared into the reflective eyes that watched him. He remembered seeing her often on the Holonet, a constant shadowed presence behind the Chancellor. An Umbaran.

He swept his eyes down her form, noting the limp as she walked toward him, the thick bandage around her bony right hand. This woman had come out of some fight recently, and on high alert, he swept his cloak back and extended two of his blades, the lasers springing to life within inches of her chest. She did not flinch.

"What do you mean 'once'?" he snarled and coughed. "Speak now. I won't hesitate to eliminate a female. I don't adhere to your foolish Republican sentiments."

"You needn't trouble yourself," she was toneless, colorless, and then she was lifting her un-bandaged hand, and the lightsabers in his relaxed claws were ripped away, clattering to the floor behind him. So she _was_ Force sensitive! Grievous growled and reached for his others, but she spoke again before he pulled them out.

"I have something to say, General, and I believe you will find it worth your time to listen."

**I had some unexpected free time this week, so have another chapter. :) And…I was feeling in a strange mood of happy Sithliness, which explains the lighter parts of this chapter. Palpatine, be nice to Anakin for once! The bum. But someone is not done with Palpatine yet…**

**I've started a new story called Interview with an Emperor, if you want to check it out. It will not get updates as regularly as this one, but it's my view on Palpatine's early and formative years based off hints in Darth Plagueis (It was the reason for my name poll).**

**Read, enjoy, and review! **


	22. Keep Your Friends Close

_Without Dooku's or Sidious's leadership, collapse the Separatists will. – Yoda, Labyrinth of Evil_

Chapter Twenty-Two

Utapau

Separatist Headquarters

Morning (third day since the collapse)

Grievous had never dreamed since the transition to cyborg. The stasis chamber simply did not allow for such frivolities. And he had no time for them either. But this entire morning felt like one long dream, such as the ones he used to indulge in when he had been more Kaleesh than machine.

To be told by the Chancellor's personal aide that his entire Separatist organization was a scam, a cover-up, an ancient glass front to an orchestrated masterplan… it was inconceivable. He had nearly killed her upon hearing those words. Only her considerable Force powers had kept her alive long enough to calm him. To show him tangible records of her condemning words.

To channel his anger toward the right individual, she said.

Sidious.

His fists clenched tightly. How many times had he groveled before the cloaked Sith Lord, following his orders without question, assuming that the human actually wanted the Separatists to win. That was evidently a ridiculous thing to expect from the Separatist leader, particularly when he was running the other side as well.

Grievous remembered the moment he had taken Chancellor Palpatine into custody on Coruscant. He recalled the man's disturbing calmness and poise, as though kidnapping were a paltry affair. He thought of the reprimands to his shuttle driving on the return to his flagship, the outrageous disbelief that the Chancellor actually expected to come away alive.

Now everything cleared up in his mind and made the bright anger spark into a supernova of betrayal and a desire for revenge. Sidious would regret deceiving Grievous like he had. The general was not a toy to be tossed aside when no longer useful. Grievous pondered the recent orders that had relegated the Separatist leaders and himself to the back worlds.

Had Sidious already judged his usefulness over? No contact had been made for some time.

Sly Moore had told him of her assassination attempt. She had failed, but Sidious was now in the medical center, wounded from her attack. Perhaps that had kept him from communication. Perhaps the Jedi were monitoring him, suspecting him. One thing that pleased him: the Jedi were being blamed for the whole mess.

Her story and information had stretched into hours. Grievous had not alerted the Separatist leaders. To do so would be suicide for the Separatist movement. _We will fragment into greedy self-serving factions. Perhaps Sidious intended this to happen. Then I will thwart him. I did not strike fear into their hearts without reason. _He would bring the Separatists into line, form them into his own movement.

The droid armies were still a powerful threat to the Republic's peace. With each month of the war, more systems broke away and joined them, some with choice and others with none. Grievous was not picky about the process, as long as the Republic dissolved in the end. He would lead his armies to victory, and this time no Jedi would stop him. No Sith either, for that matter.

He lifted his head from a slowly revolving galaxy map and regarded the Umbaran. "You say Dooku knew as well?"

Sly Moore nodded. "He did, but the rest of the Separatist leaders do not. And I don't recommend enlightening them just yet."

Grievous agreed silently, pushing his useless anger at the deceased Dooku to the back of his mind. The flighty Neimoidians would panic, and San Hill would withdraw the support of the International Banking Clan. The Techno Union would withdraw, and the Geonosians would scuttle back to their muddy hives. He would be left with nothing. "I can handle them easily enough," he told her.

"May I also suggest maintaining your loyalty to Sidious should he contact you again?"

Grievous stared.

"Loyalty is an admirable quality," Sly Moore shrugged.

Grievous glared.

"At the present time," she conceded.

"Ah, I think we at last begin to understand each other," Grievous rumbled. Who said betrayal could only go one way? He stood suddenly, sweeping the cape over his shoulder and plodding toward the conference rooms. He had plans to make.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Coruscant

Jedi Temple

Morning

Anakin left the Medcenter and met Obi-Wan under the cover of early morning darkness, and the older Jedi led him quickly the to the Temple's library. The snippy Jocasta Nu was nowhere in sight, and Obi-Wan admitted with a self-conscious blush that he had prepared an enticing research project for her benefit, something to do with the retention of planetary information on the library's databases.

Anakin snickered at that and told Obi-Wan that he never figured he had it in him to trick the frightening librarian. Obi-Wan quietly agreed. The older Jedi scanned into the foreboding door at the end of the great hall, and Anakin felt his blood quicken at the thought of the knowledge contained within.

But when he actually stood within the low-ceilinged chamber and studied the rows and rows of cubes, he felt lost. "Where in the galaxy do we even start?" he asked a nervously shifting Obi-Wan.

The master reached out at random and pulled down a cube. It glowed a soft blue in his hand. "Honestly, I can't say where a holocron on childbirth may be found. It's not a common, erm, situation, among the Jedi."

Anakin grinned at his discomfort. "Well, after this is all over, I really don't care if the Council tosses me out. As long as I find what I need."

"I care," Obi-Wan muttered softly but passed him the cube and reached for another. "We have three hours at the most. We can safely assume Master Nu will be caught up in her project until then. The other Jedi are too busy fighting or gossiping about the recent events to want the library."

Brief regret flared through his mind. "How are they?" he asked quietly.

Obi-Wan glanced at him sideways. "Not good. I've evaded the worst of it, but Master Fisto tells me the Council Room resembles a war room these days. He supports the movement that Senator Amidala – Padme – has made in the Senate, but many of the Jedi are worried that with Dooku's reputation, the accusation will ring too true. Still, they can't do much about it. It passed."

"I know," Anakin said, remembering the tension-filled afternoon and evening of meditation on the Dark Side that Palpatine had demanded in return for his concession. Not that Anakin regretted learning more about his visions, but he could not forget the flash of suppressed anger he felt from the Chancellor when Pestage confirmed the movement's passing. "And me? Palpatine?" he pressed.

"To move against him now is to move against the Senate. The Council understands this would cause great loss of life to both sides, tear the Republic apart, and potentially destroy our order." Obi-Wan sighed. "Palpatine has planned well."

"And I don't even think this was his original plan," Anakin added.

Obi-Wan stared. "I'm not going to ask how you know that. The only thing keeping us from being disbanded is the investigative process. And _that _only until Palpatine recovers enough to appear before the Senate and overrule the process, or frame us again."

"I'll see that he doesn't," Anakin assured him, though his promise felt empty even to himself.

"I wish I had your confidence. Now that he is revealed and no longer hiding, the Dark Side is becoming suffocating to the Temple. I find Padawans snapping at their masters and masters griping about their Padawans." He shook his head. "As for you, the Council is divided. Masters Windu and Ti lead the motion to have you expelled, but Master Yoda is holding his own."

"Who would have thought?" Anakin mused. "Yoda…I was scared of him when I first saw him."

"I still am," Obi-Wan quipped.

They laughed then turned their attentions to the holocrons. The three hours passed far too quickly. Anakin poured through half a dozen stern Jedi Masters, listening to their droning speeches with impatience and laughing at the naiveté of others. Some of these Masters had never even considered marriage or childbirth in their pure-hearted quests to reach the balance of the Force. The ones who did had only words of condemnation for him.

There was one, however, whose gatekeeper regarded him with a surprising and lively sympathy. The name was impossible to pronounce, and the Jedi was long dead. He had belonged to the healing corps during an uprising on an outer rim planet, where supplies were scarce and help far away. His commentaries on healing were unlike anything Anakin had previously heard from his classes, and he seemed almost ashamed of his knowledge.

But Anakin persisted, and the gatekeeper gave in, revealing several new healing techniques that required less positive thinking and more…the best he could say, desperation. Anakin listened to the descriptions of the emotion required, and though the gatekeeper insisted that emotions could lead to darkness and despair, Anakin was intrigued. Essentially, what Palpatine had said about emotions being able to serve him was being echoed here in this Jedi Holocron. _Are we really so different? Or do we only like to say we are? Why do we have to apologize and feel guilty for using our power? _

It was only when Obi-Wan touched his arm that Anakin came back to reality and realized his time was up. Reluctantly, he slid the holocron back into its place and gazed longingly at the rows of others. _I'll be back, _he promised their untapped depths and followed Obi-Wan from the room.

Obi-Wan led him from the Archives to a quiet back hallway that led to a smaller side exit from the Temple. Eager to remain unseen, Anakin was pleased with Obi-Wan's foresight to choose such a path. They walked in companionable silence as Anakin perused the information he had discovered. Nothing yet on assuring an unborn child's health, but he had uncovered a possible lead.

He became aware that Obi-Wan was watching him closely. "What is it, Master?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, then decided to speak. "Be careful, Anakin," he stopped in the hallway and placed a hand on the young Jedi's shoulder. "In trying too hard to save Padme's life, I fear you might force the future you don't want."

Anakin felt the unpleasant hackles of self defense rise into place. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

Obi-Wan did not look away and remained untroubled by the hard look he received. "I mean trying to force the future to your favor only leads to trouble."

"Are you saying that if I try to save her, I could end up _hurting_ her?" Scornful disbelief sang through his body at the idea. As if! Padme was his life, his sole purpose for being. Harming her would be like cutting out his own heart and stepping on it.

He saw Obi-Wan gazing at him, inscrutable. "It's not an improbability that she will be harmed, Anakin."

"No. No, it _is_ an impossibility, Obi-Wan," Anakin snapped. "I would never, _never _hurt my wife." What truly hurt was the idea that Obi-Wan thought he could do such a thing.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he wrinkled his nose. "Not you personally, Anakin. Stars! I know that."

Relieved, Anakin stared at him and wondered. Then he knew. "You think Palpatine will hurt her. If I follow his advice."

The Jedi Master dropped his hand from Anakin's shoulder and began walking slowly again. "He is a Sith Lord. In the experience of the Jedi, the Sith are capable of any deceit, any manipulation to get want they want, Anakin. This Darth Sidious alone has manufactured an entire war."

Anakin snorted but fell into step alongside. "Not alone. The Separatist leaders went along with it. The Republic was splintering long before he took power."

"Palpatine orchestrated it, though. You know he's capable of great harm. He's been in the political field for decades. Who knows how much damage can be placed in his hands?"

Anakin looked away, refusing to meet the firm eyes of his former master. He knew all too well that he was holding a krayt dragon by the tail. Anakin was under no illusions that the Sith were dangerous, but they were also powerful. So powerful. He had been a direct beneficiary of Palpatine's power at the opera house, and he knew there were things the Jedi would not tell him. "Yes," he finally allowed. "I know that. But he's capable of good, too, Obi-Wan. He saved my life. Twice."

Frustration flashed across his bearded face. "Because he wants you for something, Anakin. I saw it on his face when we came to the medical center." Obi-Wan glanced around cautiously and lowered his voice. "In all honesty, I fear he may even be trying to take you as his next apprentice. Since Dooku died, maybe before."

Anakin twitched at the name, and his reaction was knee-jerk. "He's never asked me to follow him or pledge to any teachings. He only wants to help me. He doesn't like seeing me held back." _He wants to see me great. What do you want from me, Obi-Wan? _

Predictably, his master fell back on his Jedi teachings. "There are reasons we hold ourselves back, Anakin. You know this. Restraint is critical to self control. If we let our passions have free rein, they will overcome us and any semblance of control we have will be gone."

"It doesn't have to be like that," Anakin argued. "Our passion sometimes gives us the necessary strength to do what we have to do. Passion exists, whether or not the Code wants to admit it."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "The Force does that, Anakin. If you let the Light Side dictate your path, you will always have the strength to do what you must."

Anakin grunted, noncommittal. "It's just that he's my friend, Obi-Wan. Yes, he's a Sith, but like you, he's the father I never had. I won't give that up. I won't turn on him."

"But he withheld the truth from you."

"He feared the Jedi, for good reason too. The Council preaches about self control, but they stink of fear." Anakin realized that his voice was growing louder as he thought about the Council, and he forced a false calmness into his center.

"The Council is afraid, yes," Obi-Wan admitted. "They've never seen the Sith like this, Anakin. Most have never interacted with anything concerning the Sith. Sith were like legends, past monsters and nightmares that the Order would never have to worry about again. And after the invasion of Naboo, they were still secretive, far-off beings, a vague threat that would be brought into the open and destroyed in a glorious battle of lightsabers." Obi-Wan shook his head with dark amusement, then grew serious again. "But, Anakin, now that the Sith are in the open, the Jedi _can't _destroy them. They are woven into the very fabric of the Republic that the Jedi are sworn to protect."

_And the Jedi are too afraid to use their power to make it right. What good is having power if you can't use it for good in the first place? _He remembered Qui Gon's stunning words, _I didn't actually come here to free slaves. _

Obi-Wan was still speaking. "The Sith have changed, Anakin. And we haven't. The Sith have adapted, and we don't know what to do."

There was a long silence as they padded down the hall. "Maybe…You should change too, then," Anakin offered at last. "Maybe instead of destroying them on sight, you should listen to them, or help them. I don't know. Aren't we Jedi supposed to be compassionate to all living beings?"

"Yes, but - "

Anakin's eyes flashed. "No buts, Obi-Wan. Palpatine is human too, like me, like you. He's killed people, but so have we."

"That's different, Anakin, and you know it. We kill out of necessity, to keep the peace and the galaxy safe from threats like him."

_We kill because we get angry, too. I killed Dooku that way. What would you think of me if you knew? _Anakin wondered and buried the thought deep before Obi-Wan might sense it. "He thinks the Republic is lost, Obi-Wan. I think he honestly believes that what he's doing is right. He wants to get rid of the corruption and make the galaxy run smoother."

"That doesn't make it right." Obi-Wan looked askance at him.

"Well, no. But I've found the Sith to be very different from what the Jedi have always taught."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I won't try to change your mind, Anakin. Clearly, you hold great affection for him. But he cannot be allowed to take over the galaxy. His benevolent reign would dissolve into tyranny. He craves power. All Sith do."

"Then why do the Jedi fear losing that power to him so much?" Anakin retorted harshly, then looked down at the floor in guilt. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I know _you_ don't. You just want the galaxy to be safe. You're a better man than I am and a true friend. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this risk you're taking."

Obi-Wan's grin was half-forced, but Anakin spotted some authentic pleasure. "Ah, the Council would never get rid of me, the perfect Jedi."

They laughed together. The moment was fleeting, awkward, and Anakin sobered. "I don't know how I feel about the Republic, honestly. I've never liked the bureaucracy and the Senate. It's inefficient and corrupt. The thousands of systems leaving aren't all swayed by the Sith."

Obi-Wan nodded. "True. I'm no politician, Anakin, but government should never be forced upon its citizens."

_I'm not so certain, Obi-Wan. Not everyone is intelligent enough to see the right way. _"I suppose so," he muttered instead. "Well, thank you anyway, my Master. Please be careful, and may the Force be with you."

"And with you, Anakin." Obi-Wan bowed in return and watched Anakin bound down the steps of the Temple. He waved at the young Jedi and disappeared into the shadows of the Temple's depths. Anakin lunged into his speeder, elated at the prospect of learning more from the holocrons, eager to return to Palpatine and gain his knowledge as well. Between the two men, there had to be an answer for Padme, somewhere.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Obi-Wan had grown used to sinking the turmoil of emotion deep within his mind. But the present circumstances were extraordinary, and he found himself worrying more and more about his friend. The access to the Holocrons had been the right move, he still believed. Even though the presence of the Sith Holocrons in the Jedi Temple was a carefully kept secret among the highest ranks of the Order, Anakin could easily discover them.

But Anakin had to suspect something, and what he might find in the forbidden Sith Holocrons could be no worse than the information he was learning from the current master of the Sith. It also gave Obi-Wan a chance to interact with Anakin, something he hoped would ground the young Jedi long enough to bring back his senses.

Anakin was scared and confused, trying to juggle a myriad of different responsibilities. He was a Jedi, a husband, a soldier, a friend, a companion of Sith and Jedi, of politicians and clone troopers. Anakin was an enigma to most of the Council, but Obi-Wan knew, _That's because they've only seen part of him. And so had I, until recently. We demand too much from him. _

Anakin was always destined to be more than a mere Jedi, but the thought of Palpatine's claws in the boy made Obi-Wan shiver. Would the Chosen One prove strong enough to resist the draw of the Dark Side? Qui-Gon had believed in the prophecy, and thus so did Obi-Wan. _I sincerely hope you weren't mistaken, Master. He's not just the Chosen One to me. He's my best friend._

The perfect Jedi…He snorted, startling a passing stray human Padawan, who ducked her head and crossed to the other side of the hall. Obi-Wan barely noticed. The perfect Jedi would have turned Anakin in to the Council and assisted in all possible efforts to eradicate the Sith Lord. Or maybe not. Maybe the Order's perception of the perfect Jedi had been twisted with time.

All Obi-Wan knew was that he loved his friend, dearly, and he would risk his honored standing in the Order to make certain that Anakin would be safe.

Someone cleared their throat close to the floor, and Obi-Wan wondered if the wandering Padawan had returned. He turned and found not a human girl but a wizened old Jedi Master.

"Master Yoda!" He inclined his body. "You caught me by surprise."

"Mutual, the feeling was," Yoda's ears lifted with faint amusement. "Walk with me, you will."

"Of course."

Yoda stumped down the hallway at a slug's pace, and for the first time in years, Obi-Wan felt antsy, eager to move, to take action. Yoda perceived his energy and only slowed down. "A product of your recent actions with Skywalker, my surprise was," he finally croaked.

Dismayed, Obi-Wan stopped in the middle of the hall. "You know?"

"Skywalker's presence in the Temple, hard to ignore, it is," Yoda nodded. "Guessed, I did, what you might be doing. Proved it, the security cameras did."

"I…"

"Apologize, do not," Yoda shook his large head and leaned on his gimmer stick. "Searching for knowledge, young Skywalker is. Know of this knowledge, you do."

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair and struggled to come up with a calm answer. He failed miserably. "Yes, well, it's…"

"Not my business." Yoda offered a toothless smile at Obi-Wan's surprise. "Knowledge he seeks from the Dark Lord, and approve of that, I do not, but knowledge with _you_, another matter that is. Sane and good, you are, Obi-Wan, in a galaxy of darkness and pain. Confused, the Council is. Uncertain, I am."

"Master Yoda, you are the finest Jedi of the Order," Obi-Wan protested, sensing a deep sadness in the small alien and desperate to eradicate the unusual feeling. "Your judgment has never led us wrong."

Yoda gave a cursory nod. "See about that, we will. But changing, our worlds are, Obi-Wan. Careful you must be that your friendship with Skywalker does not dissolve into the darkness. The key to keeping him in the light, your love may be."

Startled, Obi-Wan looked at his boots. "I know the Code, Master Yoda, and I will keep to it."

Yoda actually chuckled. "Of course you will. Forgotten how to love, many Jedi have. The Dark Side clouds everything in these days. Form attachments and give shape to their passions, they do. But selfless, your love is. And powerful, that is. Forgotten that briefly, even I had."

"I…thank you, Master Yoda. I will do my best to help him." Obi-Wan bowed again. "And I think I should meditate on your words, if you will excuse me."

Yoda said nothing more, but his large eyes were sympathetic and understanding. Obi-Wan felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest, and it required little energy to return to his quarters and sink deep into his meditations. For the first time in days, he felt curiously hopeful.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yoda watched him hurry away. "Surprising also, is your presence, Master Ti."

He turned slowly to take in the Togruta Master, her bright face unrevealing of any thoughts within. Shaak Ti always had perfect control of her emotions, ever since she had been elevated to Master. But he sensed a disturbance deep within, a conflict that only grew every time he saw her. "Well, are you?"

"I am well, and I apologize if I appeared to be eavesdropping," she inclined her head, "But I was traveling this hall to avoid the others. I could not help hearing you and Master Kenobi."

Yoda shook his head as he contemplated her words. "Used to avoid each other, we never did. Pleased I am to see you now, my friend."

"Thank you." He waved her closer and began to walk again. "Master Yoda, is Obi-Wan really taking Anakin Skywalker into the Archives?"

Yoda frowned. "He is."

Shaak Ti straightened with alarm. "There is terrible knowledge in there, Master Yoda. Are you certain that is wise?"

Yoda let the old sternness creep back into his voice, as though he were speaking with a chastened Knight. "Wisdom Obi-Wan possesses in greater amounts than most other Jedi put together. Seen this, I have. Seeks to save the Chosen One, he does. Or have him go only to Lord Sidious, would you?"

"No!" Shaak Ti exclaimed. "But Master Yoda, Anakin Skywalker is so young, so untried. If he discovers…" she lowered her voice, "the Sith Holocrons…"

"Knows of their presence, he does not. Trust Obi-Wan, I do, to keep those secret as long as possible."

"But surely he suspects," she protested.

"A flesh and blood Sith Lord he has, if desirous of their powers he is," Yoda hated to admit it, disliked that the entire Council was defenseless before thousands of clone troopers that surrounded the Temple night and day. Even the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could only hope that Obi-Wan would keep his Padawan in the light.

"I apologize, Master Yoda," Shaak Ti finally offered. "I sense great darkness and uncertainty in the boy, which is why I support Master Windu. I cannot see our place in this coming conflict. We may do great harm in expelling him, but might we not do more harm in keeping a Sith sympathizer in our ranks?"

"That, no one may say. Not me. Not you," Yoda replied. "Trust in our ally, the Light Side of the Force, we must."

**So, I finally got my internet back after my big move, and I'm ready to go. I managed to catch the new clip of Sidious in the Season 5 Clone Wars, and that was a nice bit of inspiration. I loved the symbolism of his robes, don't know if anyone else caught it. He had a mix of blue and red robes on, and Obi-Wan was with blue-armored Mandalorians fighting red-armored Mandalorians. I thought that was a fun way to show his dual nature of playing both sides.**

**Anyway, I'll try to update sooner next time, though my year is only going to get busier after this. Anakin and Palpatine show up next chapter for a bit of Dark Side learning fun, and we finally get to find out what Grievous plans to do.**

**Thanks to all the anonymous reviewers. If you ever get accounts, I'll be glad to reply to them. :) **

**Read, enjoy, and review! I do love reviews. Charming little things, they are. :) **


	23. What a Tangled Web He Weaves

"_The will of the Force begets uncommon fellowships." – Dooku, Darth Plagueis_

Chapter Twenty-Three

Coruscant

Galactic Senate Medcenter

Afternoon

The medical room was quiet, occupied only by two individuals who were silent and withdrawn. Anakin Skywalker reflected on the day's adventure with Obi-Wan. The secret mission to reach the Holocrons had been a near-complete success. Granted, the information he sought was not yet uncovered, but he had access to plenty more. Almost as good as that, his friendship with Obi-Wan was growing solid once again. How he had missed the conversations and gentle bickering between them, the brotherly affection and grins.

To think he had ever thought that Obi-Wan was like the rest of the Council! Crazy. Obi-Wan had proved his friendship, and Anakin was prepared to return it tenfold. Maybe the Council had been using Obi-Wan like they had tried to use Anakin. Obi-Wan would have been too kind, too polite to protest. It was good to know the old man had a backbone after all. Anakin grinned and then cast his gaze to the bed.

Palpatine was dressed again in embroidered black robes of office and soft black leather boots. Anakin knew the white bacta casts were still attached, hidden under his pant legs. Of course Palpatine would want to look impeccable even in a hospital… His grin twisted cautiously at one corner. He had arrived at the medcenter while the physical therapists were discussing Palpatine's recovery.

The bandages on his hands and face were gone, and he looked the dignified part of a galactic leader, much as he always had. His medical team insisted on treating him like fragile glass, but Medici and the other doctors expected him to be released with a clean bill of health by tomorrow afternoon. The Sith Lord's smug acceptance of the news gave Anakin pause. Palpatine would be much harder to keep track of once he was out of this place. He might even make secretive calls and hold meetings with his underlings.

That left Anakin to juggle one loose Sith and many confined Jedi, Jedi who had to be growing more impatient with each passing hour. Yoda's support was unexpected and gratefully received, but how long would the Council listen to even him? How long before the news leaked out to the masses of Jedi Knights and a movement began to force the issues at hand? Anakin shivered at the thought.

He focused again on the present. Palpatine's eyes were barely open, and it was only an expression of deep concentration that told Anakin he was not sleeping and still aware of the room in which they sat. That, and a tentative manipulation of the Force currents in the room. Anakin watched the ethereal experience in fascinated silence.

What was the Sith Lord doing? Momentarily foregoing his own assignment to mediate on and thoroughly question his Jedi training (as if he had not already done _that_ countless times…), Anakin slowly slipped his mind into the Force and concentrated on the black shadow that sat next to him. In the Force, Palpatine's presence was frigid, a startling observation that both drew and repulsed Anakin's own warm aura. He sent out a sensitive thought, a small sliver of light that disappeared into the darkness of the shadow hovering nearby.

_Are you meditating?_

The shadow flowed up next to him and pooled at his side. The light in his aura quailed back, his own darkness gladly curling next to it. _I am looking into your future, "Chosen One," since you seem determined to evade it. _

It never occurred to him to question the abilities of the shadow. _What do you see? Is Padme there? Is she all right? _

_The Force shows me many paths. In some, I see your wife alive and well. Others, there is a great fog around her. I cannot tell, but it cannot bode well for her safety._

Cold fear seized Anakin's chest. He struggled to remain in the Force. _I've tried to meditate, but I only see the visions of her death. How can I see the ones where she is alive? _

The shadow brushed against him, pointing to his center, speaking softly, _Your fear chokes you. Fear can be a powerful ally, but turned against you, it will suffocate and destroy. Turn your fear away, Anakin, turn it into a weapon in your hand. Do not hesitate to leave behind what you have been taught. Embrace the darkness, and you will know what it hides. _

_How? _Anakin demanded. 

The shadow was unaffected as it continued in its almost lazy whisper, _You are angry. I can feel it deep within you. You resent the Code that forced you to hide your marriage, the Council that even now seeks to keep you from saving her. Use that anger, dwell on it, but use it slowly. Let it build on itself. Control it._

Anakin hesitated. The anger that had always been a dark presence in his mind rose to meet the challenge, as if to say, _Listen to him. _Anakin's Jedi training replied instead. _This is wrong. I… _

_I will not ask you to do anything you will regret, _the shadow promised, the currents in the Force growing rigid with anticipation. The Force around Anakin shivered with the cold that seeped into him. He wanted to push it away, push the Shadow far away, but the cold numbed his fear and made him bold. 

He thought about it. _My anger will show me the future?_

_The Force shows you the future. You must command the Force with that anger. Only the weak think otherwise._

Anakin focused on the recent events, and the image of the Council sprang to mind. _The memory probe…not my secrets! Exile…expulsion…_The anger in him quickly flared to life, and the Force shuddered under the superheated onslaught. Beside him, the shadow shivered with painful delight and pressed closer.

_Slow down…_It cautioned. _Hatred has its place, but too much too fast will create a reverse effect in the Force. You will no longer control it, but it will take you. The future requires the subtlety of a focused mind. _

Anakin swallowed his frustration. He was not subtle! The Force visions were slipping out of his intangible hands, sliding away into a terrifying blackness. The horrible nightmare that had plagued him for so many nights roared to the front. He could not look away. She was dying again, over and over in blood and sweat. Pain and fear threatened to choke him, to drown him in a fiery blaze. _It isn't listening! _he cried out.

_Make it. Is it the master, or are you? _The shadow goaded. _The Dark Side will challenge you always, for only the powerful are worthy to wield it. _

_I'm not ready! _Anakin insisted, even as the visions began to fade completely. Her dying face began to fade into the darkness. _No_! _I'm losing them!_

_Here…_the guarded consciousness that was the Sith Lord opened suddenly, and Anakin's presence found itself hovering at the edge of a black hole. _I will show you. _

Did he dare? The darkness seemed complete here, and he sensed an utter lack of fear. Attracted, entranced, he leaned closer. It was so cold here, so…dead. He paused and wondered, _can it help me? _In answer, the nightmares returned with a vengeance, lashing at his soul and shrieking, _She will die! She will die! _Anakin staggered mentally and latched onto the nearest solid presence. The Shadow.

The shadow wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into the utter darkness, and for a moment, Anakin sensed nothing. Absolutely nothing. He chilled. He shook. He heard nothing, saw nothing, perceived nothing. His blazing fire snuffed out; his fear dissolved into frozen wonder.

And in the nothingness, something approached. It was the shadow, and he could not see it, for its hue matched the emptiness surrounding them. But he felt the shadow, a comforting presence that offered him something from its long shifting hands. He reached out and felt…anger. So much anger that it should have burned him in a moment. But this anger was ice cold, thrumming with a strictly controlled power.

Anakin caressed it, marveling at the strength in the coolness. As he did, it began to glow, softly at first, then stronger. It grew too, quickly stretching past his hands and blossoming around him. And everywhere he looked, Anakin saw visions.

The future! There was Padme! Smiling at him, an indistinct child twisting in her arms. _"Come to me, my love. You were strong enough to save me." _Anakin groaned. She was beautiful, pale and slender and dark, but gloriously alive! Another Padme, leaning over an older Anakin and squeezing his shoulders. _"They can never reach us again, Anakin. Tell me our children will be safe." _He looked at the sad eyes and wanted to comfort her. Another vision, foggy and dark, someone screaming, a lightsaber flashing. _"You will not take her from me!" "Padme!"_

The visions flashed by continuously, alternately terrifying and inspiring him. As he adjusted to the kaleidoscope of colors and scenes, he noticed that the shadow was relinquishing control of the visions to him. At first, Anakin staggered under the load, and the shadow relented. Anakin sensed a wave of disappointment and struggled to hold his own down. He determined to please the other and reached out again, seizing half a dozen of the visions and holding them in place amid the raging Force current with his own strength.

The shadow resisted as he pulled for more, but the resistance appeared token at best. The darkness was testing him. Well. He had more to show. He focused his anger and speared it into three more futures, dragging them from the cold hands into his own heated depths where he studied them eagerly. Padme was smiling, healthy, and he could hear the bold cries of a child, sometimes more than one.

_And the Council thinks this is wrong! Fools!_

He was beginning to revel in the power he had. The hot anger circled around him and tightened in intensity until the shadow wordlessly, effortlessly called the control back into its darkness. The visions drained into its hands, the Force leveling out and the darkness receding. Anakin slowly dropped back into the physical plane as Palpatine did the same beside him. The shadow was suddenly incongruous, an old man with a soft face and piercing eyes that glowed with a hint of gold.

The Jedi gasped for breath. "You…you see that? About anything you want?"

Palpatine appeared unchanged but for the feverish gleam in his gaze as he fixed it on the younger man. "Foresight is a gift given to few. I am one of them, and so are you, but my experience has given me the ability to sift through the possibilities. You were losing control there at the end, but you have great potential."

"What do you do? How do you use them?" He sounded like an unlearned padawan, but Anakin could not care less.

Palpatine nodded. "I seek out a particular future that I desire. Then I study it constantly in meditation and follow all possible lines to the present. All that remains is to wrest control of the Dark Side and drive it to show me the clearest path and the obstacles that may stand in my way. Great desire is required to change the future, Anakin, and that is why the Jedi are impotent. They are afraid to want."

Anakin sat back and ran his hands through his thick hair. "But I _want_ to learn to do that."

"Then you must focus," Palpatine shifted to the side of the bed and tapped Anakin's forehead. "None of these half-hearted attempts to touch your more powerful emotions, Anakin. No more shying away. As I said, your fear chokes you. I suggest we start with a simple exercise my master taught me. We dissect your darkest feelings until you can control that fear. Will you do this with me?"

Anakin thought of Padme's smiling, healthy face, though he hesitated in remembering the quiet sadness in his visions. Still… Was there a choice? "Yes."

"It will not be easy."

_Nothing is. _"I know."

Palpatine shook his head and leaned close, eyes bright. "You will. But without further delay, let us begin. Tell me how your mother died."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sidious felt the boy's pain clearly, the initial outrage that met his abrupt demand, but he also felt the incremental changes in Anakin's temperament as the story pushed out. The Jedi was coming to grips with his actions each time he described the death of the raiders. The Dark Lord used the Chancellor's mild tones to ply him with constant questions. How many men? How many women? How many children? Did they all fight back? Did any of them run? What did they do to Shmi Skywalker?

He perceived the bright fireball of rage beginning to blacken at the edges. Sidious cautioned himself not to smother the flames entirely, as he quite enjoyed Anakin's unrestrained uniqueness, but he had little to worry about. The boy was an untrained firebird of hatred. If the flames died in one instance, they ignited in the next.

All Skywalker required was occasional self-discipline, something the Jedi had failed to instill in the boy. Not surprising at all that he was succeeding so easily then. Anakin's voice, which had grown shrill with the memories, began to lower and smooth out. The minutes stretched to an hour. Sidious nodded inwardly. _Yes, my boy, it is painful at the beginning, is it not? But you are strong. You will come out of this stronger yet. _

Anakin finished his description of Dooku's death again and drew in a ragged breath. "I still hate him. Them. All of them."

_Good. _"Of course. Hate keeps the anger alive. But you will notice that you are gaining more control over your memories. The more you study them, the less they will haunt you. Do you feel it?" Palpatine asked.

"I actually do feel calmer. I didn't know the Dark Side could do that."

Palpatine held back a growl. "The Jedi try not to let that out, if they can. Now, determine to whom your anger is directed."

Anakin thought. "The raiders? Dooku? Politicians?" He flushed. "Oh, but not you, sir."

_If you are speaking the truth, then that too will come in time, _Palpatine found himself strangely let down at the thought. He shrugged it off."None more?"

Anakin looked down at his mismatched hands. "I… I guess the slavers who put us there in the first place."

Palpatine took a small chance, letting out his breath in a long sigh. "And of the Jedi who separated you from a normal life and refused to let you save your mother."

"You want me to think that," Anakin snapped, his fists clenching.

Palpatine watched them carefully. "You did not already?"

"No…well, a little." He was lying, Sidious could tell. Anakin seethed with resentment and anger for the orders that had kept him from Tatooine. It was a glorious, familiar feeling, one that he no longer needed to indulge, but he drew strength from the boy's wild emotions.

"It is all right, Anakin. Anger is natural. Anger is powerful. Embrace it and bend the Force to your will."

"But I don't hate the Jedi," Anakin protested. "They were wrong to keep me back. But they didn't know any better." But his eyes screamed, _The Jedi should know everything! They should have helped me._

The Dark Side gave voice to the boy's pain through Palpatine. "They should have known better, Anakin. What good is having the power of the Force if it cannot be used? The Force is ours as much as we belong to the Force."

"Obi-Wan says we should only serve the Force and the galaxy, and he is one of the finest people I know," Anakin sulked, his Force presence slinking away from the cold power he had briefly possessed and sliding back into the form of a confused man-child.

The Dark Lord felt a glow of irritation. Obi-Wan Kenobi should have been long dead and his ashes interred in the Temple. The Jedi Master had a curious natural talent for staying alive long past his due allotment. But his time would come. "Master Kenobi is woefully misguided in his attempts to please the Council. His loyalty to them prevents him from seeing clearly."

Anakin's head lifted, eyes narrowed, and Palpatine stopped abruptly. Had he miscalculated Anakin's growing frustration with his master? A chill of foreboding touched him when Anakin frowned. "I trust Obi-Wan, and I know he's not like the rest of the Council."

"You are certain of that, hm?"

"Absolutely." Anakin was clearly unwilling to be convinced otherwise, and Sidious wondered at the sudden change in his outlook. Just a day previously, he had felt nothing but frustration and suspicion directed from Anakin to Kenobi. Now Skywalker was singing the Jedi Master's praises.

What had happened, that Anakin should trust Obi-Wan so implicitly again? It was as though his plans had been sent back in time.

The sharp anger that arose without fail when he knew less than he should was hard to suppress, but Sidious did so flawlessly, emotionlessly, maintaining a curious and friendly front even as he thought, _Kenobi must die. Somehow. He is the critical part of what holds Anakin to the Jedi Order. He should have been fighting Grievous by now on Utapau, he might even be dead, if only…_

"If only" was a useless sentiment, he reminded himself. Adapt instead. So Palpatine said, "Well, if you are correct, then perhaps there is hope for Master Kenobi yet, but you must pardon me for my lack of faith in the Jedi."

Anakin nodded tightly. "I don't have much either anymore, not for the Council. But Obi-Wan is my friend." The older man understood the unspoken message clearly. _Don't you dare try to hurt him._

_I dare what I please, and perhaps you will perceive that this is for your own good, _he mused silently. "I understand. Friendship cannot be underestimated, particularly in these trying times."

"That's true," Anakin glanced at the timepiece on the far wall and straightened. "I need to get going. I promised Padme that I would meet with her tonight."

Palpatine smiled. "Then you must, of course. But Anakin, promise me you will practice the exercises I have taught you on your own. You must take the reins of your own learning, for only then will you be strong enough with the Dark Side to save her."

Anakin stiffened, uncomfortable with the idea, but Sidious watched with supreme self-assurance, and soon enough, the shoulders rolled forward and the falling Jedi sighed. "I will, sir. I know what I have to do."

_And someday, you might even enjoy it, _Sidious thought, and Anakin was gone, striding through the door as though he owned it, far too confident for a Jedi but shaking like a turbulent thundercloud in the Force.

As he did, Sidious's mind flicked back to the bane of his current situation, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The venerable Jedi master had been less predictable than he supposed. Now that Anakin had exited, he pondered the events of the last several days. _Amidala knew and told the Council. Most likely Kenobi. She trusts him. In spite of his bland obfuscations, Kenobi is not a complete fool. On some level, he has been aware of their secret desires, and I may assume he also knew from whom she attained her information. _

Sidious scowled. _Then he may well know of the marriage, but clearly the Council does not, for Anakin told me he has only been suspended from the Council, not expelled from the Order._

_ Pity…_

But this was a profitable line of thought. _If he knows, and he has not told, he would be in the perfect position to win back Skywalker's trust. _Palpatine felt a twinge of grudging admiration for the Jedi master and disapproval for his future apprentice. _Foolish, naïve... But he is only a boy, and he will learn. _

The scenario seemed likely, and gained an assurance of truth when he tapped into the Dark Side to confirm it, though he had no immediate proof except Anakin's renewed attachment to Kenobi. For now, that would do. _More and more, his elimination becomes imperative. But how? Anakin's bond with him grows instead of shrinking. If death is not an option, I must somehow separate the two. _

Sidious considered his options carefully. Anakin Skywalker would go where Padme Amidala went. If Amidala went offworld…Kidnapped? No, that would trace back to him, thanks to Anakin's heightened suspicion and strange new mental connection to the Dark Lord. Amidala must go of her own accord.

And nothing fired the passions of Amidala more than a threat to her people. Was it not almost time for another invasion of Naboo, anyway? The planet was entirely too comfortable and complacent these days, and the recent troop movements had left his home planet relatively undefended. He had been holding a renewed attack on Naboo in the back of his mind for some time. Well, he would send them their former queen with his blessings.

Anakin knew the independent nature of Grievous, knew how the monster loved to destroy mindlessly. Grievous would not be able to hold Naboo long, but long enough to create a window of opportunity, to demand a meeting with Naboo's leadership. When had Amidala not passed up a chance for negotiation? He started to reach for the small holoprojector.

Palpatine had given his word not to contact the Separatists. _What does that matter?_

The Chancellor hesitated.

_Extenuating circumstances, my lad. You leave me with little choice._

All for the best. The thought revitalized him even as he called the portable holoprojector to his side, disabling the visual hologram and utilizing only the voice activation. The call was roughly patched through on a secret, highly-secured wavelength. General Grievous was swift to respond as usual, his hulking form tiny in the palm of Sidious's hand.

"Greetings, my lord," Grievous hacked out. "Is your holographic display working?"

"I am not in my usual location, General. Let my voice suffice," Sidious snapped.

"Of course, my lord."

"I have need of your fighting skills, General. Admit the Separatist leaders into the hands of a subordinate and ready your current task force. We move immediately."

The large cyborg straightened in surprise. "Then the previous plans have been cancelled? Are we to establish the base on Mustafar?"

"That is no longer important, General. Let the slime remain on Utapau if they so desire. The Jedi have been contained around the galaxy and placed under investigation by the Senate for collaboration with the Separatists, thanks in part to our own esteemed Padme Amidala." He heard Grievous snort. "They pose no threat to your charges, nor will they again."

Grievous nodded, clearly pleased to be rid of his infant-sitting duties, as he had once flippantly complained to Sidious. "That is good news, my lord. Now, where am I to strike?"

"Naboo is currently posing a problem to my plans. I wish you to occupy it and covertly demand the release of the Jedi in return for lifting the occupation. I will send you a list of the individual Senators to whom you will make the offer."

"But…" Grievous's metal head was struggling to grasp his words. "I understood that the Jedi are our enemies."

Sidious sharpened his tone. "They were. No longer. At least, that is what the Senate must assume, hence the reason for _secretly_ demanding their release. I will make certain your arrangement 'accidently' garners the notice of the public. Your demand will be seen as a condemnation of the Order, as a desperate gamble of a dying rebellion to salvage its network of spies and traitors. I have seen a way to turn Amidala's meddling to our advantage. In light of your demand, her bold, foolhardy suggestion will become reality, the Senate will tighten its grip, and the Jedi will be permanently removed from power."

Grievous lifted his large head. "Could the demand raise suspicions that the Jedi are being framed?" 

"Only among the insignificant, General. The Senate is beyond reason, seeing enemies behind every corner." _Except mine. _"All I require is time. Time and pandemonium."

Grievous barked out a harsh laugh. "That I can give you, my lord."

Sidious nodded. "On arrival to Naboo, demand a meeting with Republican representatives. Speak of the end of the war. And see that it is done with all haste."

Sidious tucked the projector away and slid back on the mattress. Everything was proceeding smoothly. He would soon be released from the medcenter. Bail Organa was safely tucked away on Alderaan, grieving his wife and broken in spirit. The Jedi were under investigation and confined to the Temples and praxeums of the galaxy, under heavy guard and ready for destruction. The path was paved for his governors and military officials to take total command of the war effort soon. Anakin Skywalker was slipping further into the Dark Side with each dark technique and meditation. The future of his visions appeared promising.

Why then did he, Sith Lord and master of all possibilities, feel unusually apprehensive? That blasted Kenobi…

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Utapau

Grievous's Temporary Quarters

Afternoon (Coruscant Time)

Sly Moore hurt.

Not just her body, though it felt as though a rancor had trampled her. She had barely escaped the collapsing opera house with her life. A pair of SAR troopers had found her clinging to a jagged beam, dangling over a drop of several hundred meters and hanging on with one hand. After they had pulled her to safety and dressed her wounds, regrettably she had to kill them.

No witnesses could see her clearly enough to identify her. If Palpatine knew she lived, she would have no more chances. She knew him well.

And she wanted at least one more chance. The greater hurt lay in her chest, in the open wound that was her heart. He had rejected her for years, rebuffing her increasingly obvious advances and using her just like he used Pestage and poor stupid Doriana.

Sly could not honestly remember when her gratitude and loyalty had morphed into desire for him and a lust for his power. All she knew was that he was great, far greater than her, and she wanted him. She wanted to learn from him. Everything.

He called her weak. Said she was worthless and never good enough to become an actual Sith. What did it take? Ambition? She had plenty of that. Ruthlessness? She learned from the best. Intelligence? She would never have risen so far without it. Power?

Raw power. Something he respected, and something that she lacked if she had to be brutally honest. Surely she made up for that in her other talents. Her Force potential was impressive; she might have even been a Jedi in a different life. But in his eyes, that was not enough. Never enough.

"Not in the same class…" she muttered, pale eyes flaring with hate. "I wasn't in your class because you fixated on that Skywalker brat." And before that, Dooku, and before that, Maul. But always Skywalker lurked in the background, mocking her with his presence each time he came to visit the Chancellor. Even as a small boy, he had shone brightly in the Force, and she despaired at the delight in her master's eyes.

She tried to undermine the Jedi's poster boy several times, denying him access to the Chancellor, but nearly always Palpatine was there to override her, his blue eyes laughing at her jealous attempts as he ushered the boy inside. _Why did he put up with me for so long? Did he want to see how far I would go? _

She would have gone to any length, if he had asked. But not now. Now only hatred for him filled her bleeding, blackened heart. To think she might have ever desired the scum! He was more powerful, yes, but that could be overcome with the right allies.

That brought her here, to Grievous's headquarters on Utapau, waiting for the general to finish his transmission with Lord Sidious. She shuddered with rage as she heard that deep voice echo around the room. How she wanted to hear it begging for mercy! Too much to ask for, but it made a nice daydream.

Abruptly the transmission ended, and the metal-encased Kaleesh spun to face her. "Why would he want Naboo attacked?" Grievous pinned the woman with a cold glare.

Sly Moore shrugged in a gentle movement of her shadowcloak and offered him an icy stare in return. "I don't think his former plans were working too well. It has to have something to do with Amidala and Skywalker. That's where his plans are vulnerable, General. He won't let go of that stupid boy."

Grievous seethed, clutching one of his Magna guard's pikes in his claws and squeezing until the metal protested. He threw the mangled weapon to the floor. "Yet he dropped Dooku at the slightest provocation. Used me. Me! No one uses me!"

"You should tell him that," Sly chuckled, humorless, and he surged to a stop in front of her and towered over her.

"You won't be using me either, witch! I tire of the games you play!" Grievous turned and stomped down the long hallway that led from his quarters to the conference room. Then he stopped. "He is weakened. Wounded. That is why he would not use the hologram."

Sly laughed at his broad caped back. "I wouldn't say that. Set back, momentarily. Don't underestimate him, General. If you do, you _will_ be dead."

The cyborg twisted to look at her. "He should not have underestimated me. I am not a tool. I am not a machine, and I understand betrayal. He'll wish he'd never heard of me."

As he clanked down the hall once again, Sly called out, "And the latest codes? You might need those, after your last failed attack on Coruscant."

Her intended agitation had its effect. Grievous spun and came stalking back up to her, leaning his sharp frozen face close to hers. "It _failed _because both sides were pawns. Pawns! To think I had him in my grasp that entire time. But my eyes are open now, and when he faces me again, I'll know what I see."

"A backstabbing, selfish misbegotten mongrel?" Sly Moore kept her voice light, airy, almost cheerful, watching as the general's eyes narrowed with each adjective.

"That's charitable," Grievous snarled finally, though his eyes lit up with a curious interest in her. "He is a traitor to my cause."

Sly decided to push him. "He _was_ your cause."

A low growl ripped through the silent hall. "Silence, woman! You think I don't know that?" He erupted into a fit of coughing. "I'll tear him apart for that."

"Coruscant will be twice as difficult as the last time you attempted this," she warned him. "Coruscant has been on edge ever since you kidnapped their beloved leader."

The monster straightened to his full height. "The Jedi are no longer defending the capital. You think clone troopers will stop me? I'll go in with twice the army," Grievous rebutted. "And more."

Pleased, Sly still pointed out, "That could get expensive for the Separatists. And dangerous if you commit too many droids."

"The Separatists, as you pointed out, never existed as a real group. I'll throw everything at him if that is what it takes," the cyborg growled.

And looking into those glazed, hateful, betrayed eyes, Sly Moore could believe it.

Because she felt the same way.

"About those codes…" she smiled.

**Whether Anakin realizes it or not, those Dark Side meditations have an adverse effect on one's outlook on life. Practice makes perfect… **

**Thanks to Obi-Wan having some common sense, Palpatine is experiencing some trouble on his end. But that's forgivable because honestly, who could foresee a sensible Jedi? Now don't beat me up too badly for saying that. :) **

**In hindsight, Palpatine may wish he hadn't had Grievous's brain fixed to be so aggressive. **

**Read and Review! And thanks for all the great reviews from the last chapter! **


	24. Slippery Slope

Previously, on A Night for Opera and Everything Else…

During an ambitious assassination attempt by his own secretive aide Sly Moore, Palpatine's alter-ego has been revealed to none other than Anakin Skywalker. The two begin to scheme: Anakin seeking to save his wife, child, and mentor, and Palpatine seeking to complete Anakin's fall to the Dark Side while condemning the Jedi Order. Warriors and scholars alike, Jedi all over the galaxy have been placed under arrest at their temples, academies, and praxeums, awaiting full senatorial investigation for the attempted assassinations of the Supreme Chancellor and Bail Organa's wife. They are growing increasingly desperate to stop the revealed Sith Lord and escape his tightening noose. Palpatine, hoping to deepen the mistrust that the Senate holds for the Jedi, launches a risky plan to implicate the Jedi Order with the Separatist movement. He is counting on Grievous to invade Naboo and "secretly" demand the release of the Jedi, sending Senator Amidala to her homeworld to negotiate. By doing so, he hopes to draw Anakin Skywalker away from the influence of Obi-Wan Kenobi and into the shadows of his deepening lies.

"_My boy, I don't know that it's healthy to have a foot in each world. Soon you may have to make a choice." –_ Palpatine, Labyrinth of Evil

Chapter Twenty-Four

Coruscant

Padme's Apartment, 500 Republica

Early Morning (fourth day since collapse)

Anakin had slept barely an hour before he found himself wide awake and pacing up and down the softly lit living room of their apartment. He smiled at the memory of sliding from Padme's arms, remembering the protective resistance that her subconscious directed at him. He had no wish to wake her now as he pondered their uncertain future.

Anakin scoffed. Uncertain was too easy a word for what faced him. As though the galaxy itself were imploding around him, Anakin could feel only the tremors underfoot. Nothing was solid anymore. Nothing was safe.

Well, not nothing. The darkness was still strong, still unbent, still boldly confident, tempting, testing. This was his test and no other's, Anakin knew. He both wanted it and feared it, but the fear grew less the more he meditated on the Dark Side.

Perhaps the deep-seated fright of the Jedi towards the darkness was just fear of the unknown, because the more he learned, the more he stood to gain. Anakin sank down onto the small couch in the center of the small room, covering his face with his hands. The darkness coiled in the corners of the room and called to him sweetly.

It promised him the peace of knowing, knowing everything if he surrendered to the siren summons. _Turn from the light, and there will be no more shadows,_ something almost tangible whispered in his ear. Anakin jerked upright and struggled to take a long breath. Without Palpatine here to guide him, the depth of the power that beckoned to him was terrifying.

The room remained silent and bathed in night. Even the physical lights of the room appeared to dim in response to the heaviness surrounding the tortured young Jedi. Anakin dragged out a long breath and deciding at last, closed his eyes.

_Show me my path, _he commanded, desperately eager to experience once again the thrills of commanding his future.

The darkness laughed and lashed against him, throwing thick tendrils of choking blackness around his shoulders. _What is your path? What is it? To drown in sorrow? Is she dead? Will she die? Do you care?_

_Of course I care!_ Anakin mentally roared into the nothingness that mocked him. Worse than his nightmares, the darkness seemed to speak to him as a living being, an energy source of intelligence. Was this all a trick? Was this his own mind, his own doubts, or something greater?

The darkness constricted around his throat and hissed, _So…weak. To care is weak, son of light and shadow. You draw from the emotions of a Jedi? Are you a Jedi, little weak boy?_

_I am not weak! _Even as he protested, Anakin felt the fears of his life rising to choke him with the darkness. He had never been able to save them…never. Perhaps she was doomed, if he tried. Perhaps she was doomed _because _of him. He was weak…the darkness was right.

But then, some of Palpatine's words surged to his mind. During their meditations the day before, his mentor had told him, _The Dark Side will always fight you _with _yourself, Anakin. A master of darkness must be deserving of that weighty title. It will turn your greatest fears against you, leech the life from your bones, and tear you to shreds should you attempt to control it with anything but the strongest of passions._

Anakin could feel the blood in his veins chilling as the Sith Lord's words became truth. In response, Anakin forced the mocking laughter from his mind and focused the growing anger within. Anger for his failures, anger for his useless fears. _You will show me my path. I am your master. Heed me now._

_Master? You were never made a Master…_

The taunt struck him hard, and he growled and sent a surge of hatred into the darkness, which quieted and listened as he snapped, _Never a Jedi Master! I don't want that anyway. No, I am _your _master. You will listen to me!_

Sullen now, it whispered back, _Listen to a little boy who couldn't even save his mother? What do you suppose the raiders did to her before they killed her? _

_SILENCE! _Anakin screamed into the Force. The wave of white-hot rage seared into the Dark Side and lit it up with the intensity of a thousand suns. Anakin staggered under the force of his power, watching as the brilliant heat melded with the night and became a roiling, tarry mass of purpose. His purpose. He felt a surge of infinite pride.

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An unwilling shriek tore itself from his lips as Darth Sidious thrashed awake in his medcenter bed. He was sweating and shaking with the power of the Dark Side. It sang through his very bones, thrilling him with its coldness, putting an unnatural fire in his pale eyes.

He recalled the echoing scream of the Chosen One. And Sidious laughed a high sound.

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The Dark Side surrendered without warning. _Then see and know. Receive what you require. _The resisting black wall crumbled away from his focused mind, and Anakin could now perceive distant visions that drew nearer with each second. He narrowed in on one that showed great things, gloriously happy things. Padme was there, twirling around in a large lawn of green, eyes alight with joy, a small child swinging gently in her arms.

Entranced, Anakin watched for an eternity, then he struggled to bring his incorporeal self closer. She was a vision all her own. Perfection. Timeless. _Padme_, he whispered. _Please tell me. How is this…possible? How can I make this for us? _

She spun closer, her glowing future eyes fixed on a point just past his shoulder. Anakin turned, expecting anything, expecting even himself. But he was amazed to see instead a massive statue of gleaming stone. The figure stood proudly, arrogantly even. As Anakin's gaze traveled upwards, he noted the military-like uniform, the familiar lightsaber dangling at the belt. And he knew before he saw the face.

He stared into his own stone-cold eyes and shuddered. He saw only a conqueror. There was no softness in that blank gaze, only the promise of death to all his enemies. And worst of all, Anakin was attracted to that confident glare. Here was an Anakin Skywalker who saw everything and laughed. Here was a Hero With No Fear.

He turned back to his dancing wife, who was now close enough to nearly touch. _Will you show me? _

She smiled at him and spoke past him to the statue. _He asks so politely. What is he doing here?_

Anakin jerked back. Of course, he was still deep in meditation with the Dark Side. Asking here only brought derision. He scowled and said again, _I am not asking. I'm ordering you to tell me._ And though he hesitated, Anakin pushed a wave of anger at the figure. _She's not really Padme. _

The image of his wife stilled and looked at him now. _You will need courage on this path, _she told him and started to walk closer. _You will need power to do what you must. _

_ I can do that easily, _he told her.

_You will kill, _she cocked her head at him. _You will kill again and again. Many will die. Many must die. _

_ Will you die? _He asked angrily. She shook her ethereal head. _Then I don't care, Padme. _

_ Many will die, _she repeated, now within arm's reach. Her mouth opened, her eyes grew black. _You will die. _Long, porcelain-white arms stretched out to embrace him. His mouth went dry. _You must die. Do you care now?_

He gasped for air. To die, to be separated from her anyway…what a horrible thought. _Is there no other way? _He demanded, feeling the indignant anger rising in his chest. He would not be cheated like this.

_Destroy it all, _she whispered as her arms hooked around his shoulders. _Destroy everything for us, love. We will live forever. It is all yours to take. Take it now. Destroy before we are destroyed. _

He opened his mouth to protest, but even as he did, her face began to decay, her teeth rotting, her eyes sinking into the sockets. Anakin screamed and clawed at her hands. _Padme! _"Padme!"

"Anakin! Anakin, wake up!" Her voice gained a worldly tone, her hands suddenly flesh and blood under his own, and Anakin was acutely aware that the trance had ended. Padme Amidala stood before him, belly swollen with their beloved child.

"Padme…" he surged to his feet, blinking back the hideous vision. "I'm sorry, you startled me. What are you doing up?"

Padme hesitated. "I could ask you the same thing, Anakin. I heard you talking, and I was worried. You sounded…so angry. And…you're sweating, and shaking so hard."

Anakin flushed with embarrassment. "I was talking to myself," he explained, at a loss to explain to his innocent wife how he had been delving into the Dark Side of the Force. She was too good, and she would never understand. He failed to force a lighter tone into his voice. "Honestly? I don't know what to do. I'm upset – I'm so _angry_ - about this whole thing."

Padme seemed to feel that now was a good time to speak, because she wound her hands in his and pulled him to the couch. "And I'm upset about _you_. For you." She reached across him to grasp the small pitcher of Corellian wine from last evening. He watched her pour it into the two small glasses, noting with deep unease the way her hands were trembling. In that moment, Anakin loathed himself, loathed his decision to ever pursue her, loathed the fact that she would probably be so much better off without him…

She saw the storm clouds gathering over his face. "Anakin, please don't…"

"What?" he snapped shortly, irrationally irritated.

"It won't help to blame yourself for all of this."

He took in her wide, sad eyes, and he deflated in an instant. "I know… I just, I'm confused."

She helped his shaking hands raise his glass to his lips. "I know I can't understand the Force, Anakin, but I can try to understand you, if you'll let me. You should have at least someone to talk to."

He shrugged. "I'll see Obi-Wan today. We're going to the Archives again. I don't want to worry you…" but the idea was tempting. He weakened. Then, when she gently took his hand between her own and looked up at him, pleading, he broke completely. "I don't know what to do anymore, Padme. I don't know who to trust, where to turn, what to say. Besides you, I don't even know who is right, or who needs protecting."

"Protecting?"

Anakin nodded. "That's what a Jedi is supposed to do, protect and serve. But I'm not a good Jedi, Padme. I should know what to do. Obi-Wan would say to let the Force guide me, but what if it's guiding me to protect _him_?" He felt her hands shudder around his. "You see? I want to save him, and them. Maybe not even all of them. See how horrible I am?"

"They've put too much on you, Anakin," Padme whispered.

"I'm the Chosen One. Did they even have a choice?" He rose from his seat and pulled free of her, paced quickly to the wide window and stared down into the streams of unconcerned speeders. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he dashed them away with the soft leather glove on his mechanical hand. _I could have been one of those down there. I could have had a normal life, if the Jedi hadn't found me. _When he spoke again, his voice cracked slightly. "I didn't ask to be chosen. I certainly don't want to choose now."

He heard Padme approaching slowly on his left side. She hooked her arms around his side and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You know he is evil, Anakin. I don't have to tell you that." And her words were so tender that he could not get angry. Instead, he felt worse.

"Yes, I know. But he saved my life, Padme, twice now. And he's the best chance I have of saving you." Anakin felt her head raise to protest, and he laid a finger on her lips. "Don't argue, not now, love. The Force is clear on that much, at least."

After a long pause, Anakin sighed. "If I turn on him and help the Jedi, you might die. If I turn my back on the Jedi, your Republic might die. Don't you see why I want to save him?"

Padme pulled back to stare at him. "Anakin, it's not as simple as that, you know it isn't. If you turn your back on the Jedi, you will lose your family. No, hear me out. Obi-Wan is your family, Ani. He loves you like a brother. Can you imagine what would happen to him?"

Anakin flinched, the words striking true to his heart. Yes, Obi-Wan… He thought of the holocrons in the Archives, thought of the growing and sorely missed warmth between them again. He thought of Obi-Wan faithfully keeping the secret of his marriage, and he could not imagine Palpatine tolerating that friendship well. "I… maybe I still won't have to choose, Padme. I can speak with the Chancellor, get an exception-"

"Blackmail him again?" Padme cut him off. "That worked well last time, didn't it?"

He stared, wordless, mouth gaping but instantly knowing she was right. Padme barely took a breath before continuing, her voice impassioned and reminding him of her true calling as a politician. "Besides, if you go with Palpatine, you condemn our galaxy to the rule of the Sith, Anakin. That's not so simple either. You know from your years of study how they treat others. You know everything I fight for would be lost: our freedom, our hopes, our dreams, our very unity. And I worry, Anakin, for you and me. I said once that I wanted to go back to a time with no war, no heartache."

"Yes," Anakin felt himself growing excited at the thought. "If Palpatine could stablilize the government, stop the infighting, unify the Confederacy with the Republic again, there wouldn't be a chance for war! The Republic needs a strong leader, Padme."

She shook her head quickly. "No, Anakin. The Republic needs strong _leaders_. It needs the voices of trillions speaking as one people, not as one man. If he takes power, and the Senate will not stop him, then we will see nothing _but_ war, nothing _but_ heartbreak. That's too much power for one being! Especially Palpatine."

Anakin felt the wine glass tremble in his hand. "I think you're going too far. He's done horrible things. Well, I have too. Are you condemning me for that? Remember what I did to the raiders?" He could not stop the terrible, terrifying accusations flying from his lips. "Am I evil too?"

Her face drained of color. "No, don't say that, Anakin! You were blinded by grief. They did horrible things to your mother. You lashed out one time. That doesn't make you evil."

He looked away, unable to face her searching gaze. "I wanted revenge, but so does he. The Jedi wiped out the Sith. Palpatine would have been killed instantly had he been honest from the beginning. We're not that different, Padme. He told me he wants to stop the corruption in the Senate, and I think he means it. He wants to restore peace to the whole galaxy."

"By killing it off?!" Padme clenched her fists. "Anakin, listen to yourself! He started the Clone Wars! He's responsible for everything going wrong in our government. He's the Sith Lord, and all he wants is power. Please, I was deceived by him for a time, Ani. I fear he's doing the same to you now."

"Give me a little credit for seeing what's in front of me," Anakin scowled and pulled further away from her. "I'm not a little child playing at politics-" He froze in horror at his own words. The wine glass tumbled to the floor, unnoticed.

Padme stiffened. "Like I was? Just a silly girl playing at dress-up?" He watched as the deep hurt fled from her features to be instantly replaced by a deeper pain. "Yes, Anakin, yes I was. I will regret it to my dying day."

Anakin quailed at her dark words, and he reached out to take her arms. "I'm sorry, Padme. I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said that. He's like a father to me, that's why it hurts to hear you talk like that. I can't believe yet that he's hopeless. I owe him so much of my life. I even owe him you. He knew about our marriage, and he never told a soul, Padme. The Chancellor could have ruined us, but he wants us to be together, honestly, openly together. How is that evil?"

Now it was her turn to avoid his glare. "It's not so easy, Anakin. I don't know what he wants. But I fear it!"

"Then I'll make it easy. I'll find out," Anakin promised her, feeling the passionate heat of his promise lighting his body with a fearful purpose. What use was he as the Chosen One if he could not choose his own path? And so he lowered himself to one knee before his wife, clutching her hands in his. "I choose now. I _will_ save you. I _will_ save him. And I will even save the Jedi. Somehow. Nothing will stand in my way, Padme. Absolutely nothing." And Anakin meant every word. Nothing. Not the Light Side. Not the Dark Side. Not the Jedi. Not Palpatine. Not even himself.

The world would burn before he let her go.

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H'ratth, Inner Rim

Jedi Academy, Center of Healing

Fourth day since the collapse of the Opera House

"This is madness!"

The cry echoed around the large room, bouncing from corner to corner and causing nearly everyone present to wince. Most of the pain was felt through the Force, for the darkness in the words was unmistakable, filled with the same despair that threatened to reside in their own hearts.

The young human male strode to the center of the circular, dimly lit chamber, limping slightly. Around him, five Jedi masters sat in contemplative poses. The human paced before them, his heavy boots kicking at the vine-woven floor, bright blond hair flashing in the sunbeams that peeked through the open roof. Teeth gritted, eyes wild, he displayed an attitude in direct opposition to those surrounding him.

One of the masters, an elderly, brown-skinned Nautolan female, watched him closely, her fourteen sensory tentacles writhing around her head as they processed the human's distress. When she spoke, her voice remained distant. "Knight Juube, this is a special meeting between the masters here."

Jedi Knight Lute Juube was new to the academy on H'ratth. He had stepped into their calm lives with the force of a hurricane when he was badly injured in the battle for Neimoidia. His injuries had been so severe that the others brought him here, to this lush planet with a Jedi academy devoted entirely to the healing arts. He was well known for his aggression on the battlefield, and so they were not surprised by his fiery personality.

Now he seemed intent on making waves again. "Master Lewa Nakta," he bowed, still stiff, still angry. "Under any other circumstances, I would apologize, but there is no time for that today."

Another master, a hulking giant of a Wookie, roared a question that nearly shook the foundations of the room. A third master, a small Weequay, interpreted for him. "Master Bowdacca wishes to know why you have such a sense of urgency."

Juube scoffed, loudly and without hesitation. "Have you stepped outside the bounds of your council chamber lately, Master Skeev? Have you seen them? What they're doing?"

Master Nakta's glassy eyes clouded. "We are well aware of the clone troops stationed outside the academy, Knight. There is no cause for alarm. As long as we remain in charge of ourselves, they will not harm us."

"Is that what you think?" Juube asked, incredulous. He spun on his heel to face the other masters. "They've surrounded us for two standard days! Is that what all of you think?" The heads began to nod, one by one.

"There has been a misunderstanding on Coruscant, Knight Juube," Master Skeev stroked his chin horns thoughtfully. "Once that has been cleared up, the situation will return to the status quo. We must remain calm, or we risk a confrontation."

"You risk your lives!" Juube retorted with a toss of his head. "I have closely watched these troopers, and they are not containment or mob riot forces. These are ARC troopers!" He was met with blank stares. "Do you even know what that means? Why would the Republic devote limited ARC troopers to deal with a 'misunderstanding' out here on tiny, insignificant H'ratth? I'll tell you why. It's not a misunderstanding."

The willowy master Togruta just behind him held up her hands in placation. "Please, Knight Juube, we are humble healers here. None of us have seen the battles that you have survived. We know little of the outside war. Here, we dedicate ourselves to the healing of mind and body."

"Well and good," Juube snapped. "But you will need that soon if you do not listen to me. There are rumors from Coruscant. Some say the Chancellor has been accused of being a Sith Lord. I for one am inclined to believe them. Palpatine has amassed too much power much too quickly. And now troopers surround every known enclave of Jedi in the galaxy? Coincidence? No!"

The masters muttered to each other for several moments as Juube continued pacing up and down the diameter of the room. Finally, Master Nakta lifted her head, transparent eyes stern and unyielding. "If what you say is true, then the battle will be fierce indeed. But we are decided as the masters of this council. No action will be taken to endanger our charges. Many Jedi from the war effort lie at death's door here. We will not push them through that door with our hasty actions."

Juube let out his breath. "Then you push us all through your door of death with your inaction. I know there are those here who would not willingly let the Sith Lord destroy the Jedi Order. I serve the Republic, and I will do so again." With an air of finality, he began to move toward the small entry. Master Nakta watched him go with cold demeanor. The other masters followed her lead, except for Master Skeev.

"What do you intend to do, Knight Juube?" he called after the young knight. "If the rumors are true, we may do much with your experience."

Juube paused with his back to the door. He did not turn around. "I am going where I am needed, and I'm taking anyone with intelligence with me. You should come, Master Skeev. And may the Force be with the rest of you here, for I will not."

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Coruscant

Senate Medcenter

Midday (4th day since collapse)

"Excellency, please sir, don't overexert yourself!" The harsh whine of Orn Free Taa's voice carried clearly across the large white hallway as the overweight Twilek noticed the arrival of the Chancellor and bustled over toward him, large hands flailing.

Palpatine kept his head down, pretending to focus on the "arduous" task of regaining his strength. His nurse insisted that he practice walking in short trips around the medcenter wing, claiming that he would need time to grow strong and accustomed to the left leg temporary cast. Palpatine glared at it now, but Medici had warned him against removing it by showing him a very detailed scan of the leg before surgery. He grudgingly consented: the cast on the left leg could stay for a few days more.

At least he had gained partial freedom. At least he could move, if this could be called that. Not fast enough to escape Orn Free Taa, unfortunately. His thin fingers tightened around the support bar of his Walking Assistant Droid. The Twilek finally reached his side, huffing and puffing in a disgusting display of obesity. "Please, Supreme Chancelllor, are you all right?" Taa gasped. "Should you be walking yet?"

Palpatine lifted his head and smiled without showing teeth. "Doctor's orders, Senator. Who am I to fight such a force?"

"He's doing very well," the nurse, a young Duros male, beamed at the Senator. "Better than a majority of our patients with similar injuries who use the casts. I think he'll be ready in two more days, perhaps." _Curse my age, and curse the necessity to act it. _

"You must have an admirable tolerance for pain, Excellency," Taa smiled. "I don't know how I would have survived such a terrible attack." He fell in beside the Sith Lord and his keeper.

_You would have died squealing in a pool of your own blood, fool,_ Palpatine felt better instantly as he watched the Twilek waddle beside him and imagined the scenario. _May I demonstrate? _Regrettably, he had to entertain the idiot instead. "They take far too much care with me, Senator. I feel like I am made of the most fragile dishware these days. But truly, I seek only to return to the Senate as soon as possible. I fear the discord that may occur in my absence."

"So valiant," Taa chuckled, but his massive blue face smoothed out in an expression of deep consternation. "And I fear this discord has already begun. I assume you know about the vote to leave the Jedi investigation to the Loyalist Committee?"

_And you must be so disappointed, being expected to actually work at your career. _Palpatine sighed softly. "Yes, I had heard. You know what I hope, Senator. I sincerely wish this whole affair to be the product of a diseased portion of the Jedi Order. My heart cannot stand the thought of anything more. I want the truth, and then I want us all to go on living peacefully, united in the face of our enemies."

"And now the truth will take some time," Taa mused, flapping one massive hand through the air. "I am seated in that committee with foot-draggers and half-traitors, Chancellor. You know that! Padme Amidala is the worst! She is controlled by the demon woman Mon Mothma. And Bail Organa! That man is the most belligerent, self-centered, arrogant-"

Palpatine felt his eyes narrow. "Senator Organa returned to Alderaan, correct?"

"Well, yes, that helps certainly, but he'll return. The man refuses to believe what's in front of his own goat face," Taa rumbled. Both arms waved wildly now. "Amidala will rope him back in with some ridiculously woeful tale. Then they'll sit and argue for days about the whole matter. Who knows what else these dastardly Jedi will try in the meantime? Who knows the danger we will _all _be in?"

The decision would delay the Jedi's disbanding, but delay only. Once he returned, the Loyalist Committee would answer to him. It was only a matter of time… and flattery. Palpatine slowed to a stop and turned to fully face the Twilek. The words stung as they left him. "You have a bravery of your own, Senator Taa, to enter that den. I trust in your judgment, and your sense of fairness. You will give the matter your utmost devotion, I know."

Taa's blue skin took on a reddish tint and he offered a hasty bow. "I thank you for your confidence in me, Excellency."

The Duros nurse gently touched Palpatine's shoulder. He forced the revulsion deep inside and nodded to the young male before turning his attention to Taa again. "Already I must be away to my prison, Senator, and I must leave you to face a steep, uphill battle. I hope my confidence is not misplaced."

Taa peered at him, preening. "I will make certain no stone is left unturned, Chancellor. Amidala and Organa will not be able to defend those traitors for long."

"I only want the truth," Palpatine reminded him, proud of the way he projected his heartbroken, betrayed despair. _And finally, you do speak truth. Not long at all. _

**Okay, whew, finally had a chance to update my pet project. Massive apologies to anyone who felt left in the lurch, and I must give a warning: I don't know when the next update will come. One of my immediate family members was diagnosed with cancer this year, and the cancer has taken a turn for the worse just recently. Before it did, I was able to write up this chapter, but now I will once again be fairly busy helping out. **

**But I am determined to finish this thing. We are getting closer to a major blowup somewhere, somehow in this galaxy. Along the way, hopefully some questions will find answers. Will Anakin bond further with Obi-Wan over the holocrons? Has Bail Organa given up on the Jedi? Will Anakin choose the Light or Dark Side? Will Grievous and Sly Moore find romance in the stars? Do medical walkers in the Star Wars galaxy come with little tennis balls on the end? Oh the questions! **

**The characters of Nakta, Skeev, Bowdacca, and Juube are my own design. They may show up again in the future. **

**Please do leave a review if you have time. Make suggestions, give critiques, praise the Order of the Sith, whatever floats your boat. :) **


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